Engaged Before the First Date
by iheartwriting
Summary: When the Ministry decides to enforce a marriage law, Hermione finds herself engaged to George Weasley. The two are already bonded by a secret only they share, and they grow even closer as they face their impending marriage vows. COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

***Notes from the Writer***

Okay, SO! This is my first fanfic, and I'm excited to share it!

This is a HermioneXGeorge fic (with just a bit of HermioneXRon at the beginning), so, if this isn't your cup of tea, you won't hurt my feelings if you skip it :)

Rating - T for now. Some mild language, war and violence, sexual (but not explicit) discussions and innuendos, and perhaps a scene or two of sensuality between married people...

Yes, this is another fic based on the premise of a wizard marriage law. My apologies if people are tired of reading those. Personally, I love the marriage law fanfics and I like reading the different spins put on the idea by different writers, so I hope people will enjoy reading one more!

**Summary****: **When the Ministry of Magic decides to create and enforce a marriage law, Hermione finds herself set to marry her friend, George Weasley. Hermione and George are already bonded together by a secret that only they share, and as they face their impending marriage vows, the two grow even closer. Hermione helps George to battle the fears that have plagued him since the battle at Hogwarts, and she may just fall in love with him in the process. Compliant with HP 1-6 with some changes made to DH story-lines.

Warning that the prologue is sad, and there will definitely be a bit of heartache throughout this story, but there will be humor and light-hearted fun throughout and I promise, promise, PROMISE to leave you happy at the end of it all!

**I'm not making any sort of profit off this story**. It is simply for my entertainment and [hopefully] for the entertainment of other fans. All the characters, fictional places, etc., etc. belong to the talented J.K. Rowling and everyone else who has ownership rights to the Harry Potter stories.

If I owned any of it, I would be writing this while relaxing on my own personal island, and, more importantly, Fred Weasley never would have been killed. ;) Seriously, please don't sue me. I don't have much. :)

******

**Prologue**

There were near-constant flashes of light all around me, and it seemed that there was no where I could go to escape the screams that continually reached me ears. People were running, fighting, shouting spells; some fell to the stone floor in crumpled heaps. I knew that they were dying, if they were not already dead. A burst of green light just missed my head, jerking me from my anxious thoughts, and I turned in time to see a wizard taking aim again with his shiny, black wand. I ducked and ran, maneuvering through the chaotic mass of people, losing the dark wizard somewhere along the way. When I reached a long and empty corridor, I stopped, placing a hand over the sharp ache in my side and tried to catch my breath. I'd been separated from Harry and Ron, and had to find a way to get back to them - a task that could be more easily completed if I could just figure out where, exactly, they were. Or, for that matter, where_ I_ was.

After a few short seconds of rest, I continued on down the corridor, away from the madness I had just narrowly escaped, and as I approached the corner, I heard two familiar voices. They were not the voices of the two boys I'd been looking for, but, all the same, I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort at the thought of seeing two friendly faces. Quickening my pace, I sprinted towards the voices which, amid various shouted spells, were cheering and laughing, and as I rounded the corner, two identical figures came into view. The two boys were both tall and lanky, with shaggy, ginger hair, and they were laughing and congratulating each other as they disarmed and destroyed a group of Death Eaters. My footsteps thudded and echoed in the open space as I ran towards them, causing both of them to turn their heads in my direction.

"Hermione!" they yelled in unison.

George pulled me against his side for a quick hug. "You alright there, Hermione?"

I nodded. "Fine, thanks. At least, for the moment, anyways." I tried to laugh but it sounded shaky and unsure.

Fred gently cupped his hand over my shoulder and offered a comforting squeeze. "Have you seen the others? Is everyone okay?" he asked.

"The last time I saw them, everyone was fine. But I.. I don't know.. I got separated somehow and I can't find my way back."

"Well, I think we're about finished here." Fred grinned as he surveyed the room which was now littered with the corpses of several dark witches and wizards. "What do you think, Forge?"

"I think you're right, Gred," George said, returning his twin's smile with one of his own.

"Let's go find the others then, shall we?" Fred bowed slightly and then made a grand sweep with his arm, indicating the path we should take.

Fred led the way and I followed just behind him with George at my heels. Ten seconds. We couldn't have been running for longer than ten seconds before it happened. There was a deafening explosion followed by the sound of cracking stone, and the air was suddenly so thick with dust and debris that I couldn't even see which way to run. Something solid and heavy connected with my chest and knocked me to the ground, the pain so intense that my vision completely blacked for a moment. When I could see again, the dust was settling and I could make out heaps of rock all around me where part of the castle wall had collapsed. I heard groaning behind me, followed by the scrapes and thuds of rock being shifted. Slowly, I pulled myself up, ignoring the piercing pain in my ribs, and turning to look back, I saw George, struggling to get to his feet.

"Hermione!" he yelled as soon as our eyes met. He abandoned his attempts to stand and crawled over the rubble to get to me. As he got closer, I could see a gash across his cheek, blood trickled from it, trailing over his jaw and down his neck. When he reached my side, he pressed his hands to the sides of my face, feeling my cheeks, petting my hair, searching me for signs of injury. "Are you okay?" he asked.

I began to nod but suddenly stopped, seeing something out of the corner of my eye; something bright and colorful and out of place among the dingy rocks. I turned to get a better look and felt a wave of nausea hit me as I recognized the soft, ginger-colored hair of Fred Weasley. He wasn't moving. Something between a cry and a groan escaped from George and I knew, without needing to look back at him, that he'd seen what I was seeing. I somehow managed to pull myself to my feet, and rushed over to the place where Fred was lying, but George made it there first, scrambling on all fours to reach the broken body of his twin. Fred's face was slightly bruised and cut, but the faintest trace of a smile still clung to his lips. He was dead.

The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion, and I couldn't make sense of any of it. George was hunched over his brother, frantically pushing and pulling every stone away from the motionless body until George was the only thing left touching him. Tears began to prick my eyes. George's breathing was heavy and ragged, ripping through his entire body like tearless sobs, and the sight of him, of his utter desperation, made me feel as if my heart might burst with grief. And then I thought of something.

"George," I said, but my voice came out as no more than a whisper. "George," I tried again, a little louder this time. I reached across his brother's body to grab George's hands, difficult to do while my own were shaking so badly. "I think we can save Fred."

George looked up at me for just a second, and his eyes were wide and panicked. I wasn't sure that he was comprehending a word I was saying to him.

"We can DO this!" I yelled, my voice shrill and harsher than I had meant for it to sound. I was on the brink of hysterics myself and as much as I was trying to convince George, I was also struggling to convince myself. "George, we can do this!" I shouted again. "But I need you to help me! _George_, you have to listen to me!"

He lowered his gaze to Fred's face once more before looking back up at me. I saw his adam's apple bob up and down his throat as he swallowed, hard. His lips moved, but he didn't make a sound. At last, he nodded.

********

**Writer's Notes:**

I'm new to posting here so please be patient with me while I find my way around.

If you enjoyed the prologue and want to read more, please leave me reviews because, while they won't affect whether or not I continue with the story (because I will definitely continue), your reviews WILL make me oh-so-happy! Thanks in advance and I promise there is happiness to come! :)

(And thanks to **Rebel Band Gal** for pointing out that I called this an Epilogue instead of a Prologue! Yikes! I need an embarrassed emoticon.) :)


	2. Chapter 1 Paired With The Wrong Weasley

I'm sorry that there was no update over the weekend. I finished this chapter on Saturday but was having issues logging into the site to post it. Sunday was a bit hectic and I didn't have a chance to get on.

The next few chapters should come more quickly now.

Hope you enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer** - I own nothing and I'm not making any money from this!

*****

"Hermione!" Ginny called, poking her head out through the backdoor of the Weasley home.

"You don't have to yell," I said, looking up at her from where I was sitting on the steps, "I'm right here."

"Sorry," she said and gave me a sheepish smile. "But, they're here!"

My hand immediately went to my wand. "Who's here?"

Ginny shook her head at me, sighing in frustration when I didn't understand what she was saying. "The letters are here!"

"Oh." I slowly loosened my grip on my wand. Even with the war over and Voldemort defeated, I was still more than a little paranoid.

Then, even after the panic subsided, a different sort of dread began to creep over my body as I realized that I was moments away from finding out who I would be spending the rest of my life with. So many wizards and witches had lost their lives over the last few years, and especially during the final battle against Voldemort, that the Ministry of Magic had deemed it necessary to enact a "Wizarding Marriage Law" under which, all age-appropriate singles would be paired with a suitable partner whom they would be forced to marry. The plan was met with many protests and complaints, but at last, it was decided that desperate times called for desperate measures to ensure the survival of our world. That's what the ministry officials claimed, anyway. Funny thing, though, that none of _them_ were being forced into an arranged marriage...

---

Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were all sitting around the kitchen table when Ginny and I joined them.

"Here you are, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at me as she leaned across the table to place a sealed envelope in my hand.

I took it, turning it over several times to inspect it. My name, Hermione J. Granger, was printed in an elegant script across the front, and the flap was secured by a lump of melted, red wax, bearing an impression of the Ministry of Magic's official seal. Looking around, I noticed that the three Weasley boys were all clutching similar envelopes, and they all looked extremely pale, even for Weasleys; poor Fred looked as if he might be seconds away from passing out. Harry and Ginny were the only ones in the room who seemed completely at ease, probably having something to do with the fact that, thanks to the beautiful diamond ring that glittered on Ginny's left hand, neither of them had gotten a letter.

Anyone engaged before the Ministry reached their final match-making decisions would be free to marry whomever they chose, and knowing this, Harry had wasted no time in proposing to Ginny; I couldn't understand why Ron hadn't done the same for me. Still, I was comforted in knowing that the Ministry had spent a fair amount of time observing each of the potential marriage candidates before choosing them a spouse. Surely, they would match me with Ron, the boy I'd been in love with since my first year at Hogwarts. He was my boyfriend now, after all. How could they _not_ put us together?

"Right, then," came Mr. Weasley's voice from the head of the table, dragging me away from my thoughts. "Might as well get it over with, children. We'll all get through this together. You'll see; everything's going to be just fine."

Mrs. Weasley nodded her head in agreement with her husband.

_Everything is going to be just fine?_ That was easy enough for them to say, sitting there, holding hands with their _freely-chosen_ spouse. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that Ron's name was most definitely the name I would see when I looked at my letter.

"_Hermione_," Ginny said, nudging me with her elbow and giving me a stern look before dropping her gaze to the letter in my hands, "open it!"

Everyone was staring at me. None of the boys had made even the slightest attempt to look at their letters yet, obviously all too afraid of what they would find.

Holding my breath, I slid one finger under the sealed flap and ripped the envelope open before pulling out a piece of paper the size of a postcard. The only words on the page, were the first and last name of my future husband. In big, bold letters that were impossible to misread, was written the name, George Weasley. _George Weasley_!? I held the paper away from my face and then quickly brought it towards me again, several times I did this, like the letters might change and form Ron's name if I could just get my eyes to focus properly. There had to have been a mistake. Obviously, I hadn't gotten my letter switched up with anyone else's in the room. I mean, the thought of George being paired with anyone else at that table was just all kinds of wrong. I checked the envelope, again. My name, Hermione J. Granger, still in cursive across the front, plain as day.

"Hermione, dear, what is it?" Mrs. Weasley asked. If I'd been able to look at her, I would have seen a concerned expression on her face.

I looked across the table and met eyes with the man whom I was to marry. "George," was all I could say and even that came out as a weak whisper. He just stared back at me, looking as confused as I felt. "I'm... it says..." I stumbled over my words, something I very rarely did. "I'm to marry George," I finished at last. Gasps and shrieks (the shrieks belonging to the two female Weasleys, I assumed) erupted from all around the table.

"What!?" Ron jumped up from his seat, knocking over Ginny's cup of tea as he reached across her and yanked the letter from my hand.

George, now wide-eyed and his skin an almost unnatural shade of white, quickly ripped his own envelope open. I could see him mouthing my name as he read what was on the card. Fred, who had leaned over to get a look at his twin's letter, burst into laughter.

Ron's face was red and his hands were curled into fists. "Shut it, Fred!"

Fred only pounded his palms against the table, his shoulders still shaking as he laughed, and then Ron was suddenly climbing over the table, hurling himself, a mass of angrily-flailing limbs, at Fred. While Mrs. Weasley and Ginny began screaming at the two boys, Mr. Weasley and Harry jumped up and began trying to pull Ron away. George calmly propped an elbow on the table and rested his face in his hand, shaking his head as he watched his father and Harry finally pull his two brothers apart. I simply sat there, unsure of what I was supposed to say or do. A part of me was relieved that Ron was so upset at the thought of me marrying someone else. Another part of me was angry that he hadn't proposed and saved us from all this trouble in the first place, and yet another part of me was horrified that the boy I'd been in love with for approximately eight years, appeared to be trying to murder his own flesh and blood.

"Why're you jumping on _me_?" Fred asked, looking truly insulted as he smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt. Then his grin returned. "_Georgie_ here is the one marrying your girlfriend." The words were barely out of Fred's mouth before Ron threw himself against the weight of his father and his best friend, trying once more to attack his brother.

"That is ENOUGH!" came the high-pitched voice of Molly Weasley and everyone quickly quieted down. Ron even returned to his own seat, though he continued to glare at Fred. "Fred," Mrs. Weasley continued in a stern voice, "not another peep! Ronald," she turned to point a finger at Ron, "open your letter. Now."

Ron did as he was told and everyone else just watched and waited. "Hannah Abbott." He said the name quietly at first, and then he repeated it, a little more confidently. A subtle smile spread over his lips.

Harry was the first to speak. "Hannah Abbott? As in, the Hufflepuff Hannah Abbott?"

"As in, the beautiful, blonde, Hannah Abbott," Ron said, now grinning like an idiot. "Blimey, Harry! _Hannah Abbott_!"

It took a moment for my brain to process the sudden change in Ron's demeanor. Less than 30 seconds ago he'd been livid over my engagement to George (wow, that sounded weird, even in my head), and now? Now he was smiling at the thought of marrying the giggly and apparently lust-worthy, Hannah Abbot. As soon as my brain was caught up, I had an overwhelming urge to hit Ron and scream at him and call him every terrible name I could think of, but instead I just pushed myself away from the table. "Excuse me," I said and then stormed out of the Burrow.

*******

I'm curious to know if anyone thinks my chapters are too short. I get paranoid that I'm bogging them down and I try to remove most of the "fluff" because I don't want to bore people, but I don't want people to think they aren't long enough, either. If you have an opinion one way or the other, let me know what you think.

**Readerforlife**, and **Mrs**.- Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying it!

**Rebel Band Gal **- Thanks for the review and thanks, again, for pointing out my silly mistake so I could fix it! :)

Thanks, also, to everyone who has subscribed to this story. You have no idea how excited I am that people are actually interested in my fanfic!

George and Hermione interaction in the next chapter, I promise! Anticipation is half the fun, right? :)


	3. Chapter 2 The Only Ones Who Know

First off - I accidentally forgot to edit some things out of this document before I uploaded it... so I hope no one saw that version! It had some random outlines for upcoming scenes, so I hope no one saw it.. I don't want to give anything away, yet! :)

Anyways, I'm sorry it still took me a couple of days to get this chapter up but it is longer than the first two so hopefully that helps!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of this and I'm not making a profit. Please don't sue me.

**************

I began walking down the dirt lane away from the Burrow, my heels digging into the ground with each step. I knew I could have apparated to some place far away, but the hurt and anger I was feeling had clouded my mind so much that I couldn't even think of anywhere to go. Besides, it was rather satisfying to imagine that I was stomping on Ron's face (or crotch) with every determined step I took.

A few moments later, I heard footsteps jogging up behind me but, assuming that it was Ron coming to offer a pathetic attempt at an apology, I didn't turn around or slow down.

"Ronald Weasley, how _dare_ you!" I said, unable to contain myself now that we were out of earshot of his family. "You're a miserable, insufferable, despicable, cruel..." I let the air out of my lungs with a loud, frustrated groan but didn't complete my sentence, knowing that there wasn't a word awful enough to describe Ron at that moment.

"Please, don't stop on my account," came a voice from behind me. It wasn't Ron.

I spun around to see a tall, lanky red-head staring at me with an amused expression on his face.

"George." I laughed awkwardly, embarrassed that he'd taken the brunt of a rant meant for his younger brother. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you."

George shrugged his shoulders. "No worries. I was rather enjoying myself, actually," he said, grinning and rocking up onto the balls of his feet, bouncing slightly. "I've heard rumors of your temper but I've never had the chance, myself, to see you all worked up like that."

"Well, I'm glad I could entertain you," I said in a sarcastic tone, but my lips were traitorous, the corners already curving up into a smile.

It made me happy to see George displaying a true Weasley-twin-grin. It wasn't as if George didn't smile often. He did. George still smiled and joked and laughed and went on with his life as if everything was perfectly normal; but I could see the difference in him. His laugh was softer, his smile was forced-looking, and his eyes, which had always sparkled with a playful mischievousness, were usually dim these days. That's why, though it used to make me feel uneasy whenever I'd been the recipient of one of those devilish grins in the past, it was now a relief and a comfort to see.

"D'you want to walk back with me?" George asked, nodding his head in the direction of the Burrow.

My happiness at George's light-hearted mood was short-lived when I remembered why I'd been angry enough to leave the house in the first place. "I do NOT want to talk to Ron right now," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't even want to _see_ him."

"Then I suppose it's a good thing that he left."

I let my arms fall to my sides once again. "Left? What do you mean? Where did he go?"

George winced and then turned, without a word, and began to walk away.

"_George_."

Upon hearing his name he stopped and I took the chance to catch up with him, rounding on him until we were face to face.

"George, where is Ron?"

"Ah, well, you see..." He rubbed the back of his neck, not making eye contact with me. George seemed to be stalling. "He just..." George paused, finally looking me in the eyes, and then he sighed. "He went with mum and dad to meet the Abbott family so they could start on the wedding plans."

I felt a dull, aching pain in my chest as the realization hit me: Ron wasn't coming after me. After everything we'd been through, he was just going to let me go and he was going to easily move on to someone else. I knew that neither of us really had a choice in the matter, but I'd thought that Ron would at least _try_ to think of something. At the very least, I'd thought that he would chase after me when I left. Then again, I'd believed he would propose to me, too, and that obviously never happened. I walked back to the Burrow, with George just a few steps behind me, both of us completely silent, and when we reached the pathway leading up to the front door, George gently placed a hand on the small of my back and led me to a bench seated in the small garden off to the side of the house.

"So," he said, after several minutes spent sitting in silence. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that he was staring straight ahead, watching a couple of gnomes who were in the middle of an intense wrestling match. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"Congratulations?" I asked, turning my body to be able look at him better.

"Well, yeah," he paused and positioned himself so that he was facing me, "for your.. er.. our engagement." He raised his eyebrows, and plastered an uncomfortable-looking smile on his face.

His expression was comical and, in spite of the depressing nature of things, I couldn't stifle the snort of laughter that he inspired. Shocked (and even more embarrassed), I immediately clamped a hand over my nose and mouth. George's awkward smile grew into a genuine one and he reached out to pull my hand away from my face, placing it gently in my lap.

"I was thinking," he said, his face becoming serious again,"there has to be some sort of loophole in this law. I'm sure if we go through that book together we could find something."

I shook my head, remembering the booklet that the ministry had sent out just the previous week, outlining all of the rules and regulations regarding the marriage law. "The ministry will only reconsider a match under the most _extreme_ circumstances. Trust me, I read through the book three times, cover to cover."

George shook his head at me. "Why doesn't that surprise me? Well," his voice became overly cheerful, "I guess it's you and me then, Granger."

I nodded. "You and me." I offered a half-smile but my tone was much less enthusiastic than his and his face fell.

"Look, Hermione, I know that this isn't want you want. I'm sure you've never even considered me that way and, for reasons that I'll never understand, you love Ron. But it could be worse."

"Oh, George," I said, realizing that I'd hurt his feelings. "I didn't mean--"

"At least we're friends, right?" he said, cutting me off.

"Of course we are. Not only are you my friend but you're kind and brave and funny and intelligent and--"

"Incredibly handsome?" he offered, obviously feeling much better.

I swallowed, not sure how to respond. The truth was, I'd always found both of the twins to be very attractive. They carried themselves with a cool confidence that had girls flocking to them. It was true that I'd never considered being romantically involved with George, but it would be quite a lie to say I'd never noticed how attractive he was...

"Hermione?" George asked when several seconds had passed and I hadn't answered him. "Are you _blushing_, Granger?" He lifted his hand and used one long finger to stroke a path across my cheekbone.

I smacked his hand away. "Don't be ridiculous!" I said, even though I could still feel the heat in my face and I knew he was right. Judging by the smug look on his face, he knew he was right, too.

"That's alright," George said with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "I've never really thought about you _that_ way either--" but his words were cut off by a loud CRACK as Fred apparated to a spot just behind the bench.

"Maybe not," he said, as if he'd been part of the conversation the entire time, "but you did have quite a wicked dream about Hermione last year." He came around to the front of the bench and then nudged his twin with his hip, making George slide closer to me so that Fred could sit on the other end. "Didn't you, Georgie?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Fred." George's tone was very light and matter-of-fact, but his face was turning red.

"Oh, of course, dear brother," Fred said, nodding very seriously, but then he leaned over George to look at me before speaking again. "I definitely heard him say your name and whatever the two of you were doing in that dream, George certainly seemed to be enjoying himself." Fred laughed, clapping his twin on the back.

I'm sure I would have felt mortified if it wasn't for the fact that I was painfully aware of how uncomfortable George looked. He was staring straight ahead, his mouth fixed in a tight, straight line. It wasn't difficult to guess that he was annoyed with Fred, and that made him feel guilty. In the past, on the rare occasion that the twins were angry with each other, George would have had no problem letting Fred know it. But that was before...

When George didn't laugh or offer a witty comeback, Fred sighed and stood up. "Right then, I guess I'll leave you two lovebirds to it. Sorry for interrupting," he said and then walked back to the house.

George stared at his brother's retreating form until he was no longer visible and then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his face in the palms of his hands. I heard him draw a deep, ragged breath into his lungs and then release it very slowly.

"George?" I spoke his name softly, like I was afraid he'd break if my voice was too loud. He lifted his face from his hands but he didn't look at me and he didn't speak. "George, why don't you talk to him? He has to know something is bothering you. I'm sure he could help you if you'd just--"

"Tell him?" George finished my sentence, finally turning to look at me. "What exactly would I say, Hermione? 'Hey, Fred, you died in the battle at Hogwarts but you have no memory of it because Hermione and I used this nifty little thing called a time-turner to go back in time and save you'? Does that sound reasonable to you?"

"Well, no, not really," I said slowly, unnerved by the angry edge in George's voice. "But it's the _truth_."

George turned away from me again and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to help. And believe me, no one is more grateful to you than I am. If it wasn't for you, Fred really would be de--" George choked on the word. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You and I are the only ones who know what really happened that night. It's just easier to keep it that way." Without looking back, George stood up and walked away.

***********

Thank you SO much to everyone who has reviewed! I would like to thank you individually but there were quite a few of you so please just know that I appreciated EVERY comment! You guys are GREAT!

Thanks also to everyone who is following this story. I'm so glad people are enjoying it!

Oh, and **Mrs**. - George briefly mentioned how they saved Fred, but things will be explained in full later on. :)

More sadness and tears are coming, but happiness is on the way!


	4. Chapter 3 Fighting, Comforting, Plotting

Sorry, again, that it took a few days to get this up. I always intend on getting the next chapter up quickly and then it always takes longer than I expect. I have everything planned out but, more often than not, the characters seem to want to say and do things that I hadn't planned on and then it takes me a bit to work that back into the overall plot.. :)

**Tate Dean **- You may not like this chapter. But, Ron and Hermione need a bit of drama so that I can have them move on from each other in a believable way.. And, they need to confront their situation in order to move past it all.. but it'll get better, I promise ;) I actually really like Ron and don't want to portray him as a "bad" guy... I just like the twins a whole lot more and I need a way to put Hermione in their orbit :)

**Disclaimer**: J.K. Rowling owns it all. Please don't sue.

Hope you all enjoy!

*******

The next day passed very slowly, probably because I spent most of it completely alone. Mr. Weasley was pulling a double-shift at work, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had gone with Hannah Abbott and her mother to look at wedding gowns, George and Fred were at their joke shop in Diagon alley, and Harry and Ron were off training to be Aurors. It was days like this when I wondered why I'd decided to take time off from everything to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I'd always been so driven, so focused, and my life was mapped out with specific short and long term goals and plans. But the war changed all that. Seeing so much death and destruction, losing (and almost losing) so many friends, well, it changed my perspective on a lot of things. Things that had once seemed important were suddenly of little value to me and the things I'd been certain I wanted for myself, I was no longer sure of those, either. Harry had convinced me to take a break from everything in order to "find myself" again, and I'd agreed. But, nearly 2 months later, I was still no closer to figuring anything out, and at the moment, I was just lonely and bored.

Hoping to at least be of some assistance to Mrs. Weasley, I spent the morning tidying the house (using magic, of course) and then retreated to the room I was sharing with Ginny where I proceeded to bury my nose in a book for the rest of the afternoon. Slowly, the house began to come alive again with laughter and chatter as people began to return home for supper and I tried to speed through the last few pages of the chapter I was reading so that I could join the Weasley family and Harry downstairs. Someone knocked on the door just as I was marking my place with a bookmark.

"Come in," I said, gently setting the book aside. The door opened with a soft creak and I looked up to find Ron poking his head into the room. It was the first I'd seen him since the previous evening when he'd received the _wonderful_ news that he'd be marrying the _incredible_ Hannah Abbott.

"Hermione, I was just... wondering if we could talk." Ron's eyes were darting around the room, only occasionally making contact with mine. He looked terrified. _Good_.

"I'm not sure what we have to talk about, Ron," I said, coolly.

He looked at me then, narrowing his eyes. "I knew you were going to be like this. I knew you would make this difficult." Still, he entered the room, slamming the door shut once he was inside.

I jumped up from the bed and quickly made my way towards him. "What is _that_ supposed to mean? I'm sorry, I guess I should be _happy_!?" I reached out and grabbed one of his hands in both of mine, shaking it fiercely. "Oh, congratulations, Ron! I'm so glad that you're marrying someone else!"

"Maybe you missed it but you're marrying someone else, too, ya know!" he shouted, yanking his hand away. "In fact, you're marrying my _brother_! If anyone has a right to be angry here, I reckon it's me!"

"It's not like I _chose_ George!"

"Just like I didn't _choose_ Hannah!"

We both stood in silence for a few minutes, trying to look anywhere but at each other.

When I finally spoke, my voice was much softer. "Why didn't you ask me to marry you?"

"I thought about it," Ron said, staring at his feet as he shuffled his shoes over the wooden floor.

"You thou--you THOUGHT about it? What kind of an answer is that?"

"You see!" Ron yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. "Right there! That's exactly why I decided against it, Hermione! You always make me feel like I'm so stupid! It's always '_You're doing it wrong, Ro__n_' and '_Honestly, Ron, what were you thinking?_'" His voice jumped an octave as he imitated and mocked me. "I'd never live up to your ridiculous expectations!"

"My expectations?" I was yelling now and couldn't seem to help myself, despite knowing that the rest of the Weasley household was probably able to hear me. "I wasn't asking very much of you, now was I!? All I ever wanted was for you to love me! Do you realize how much time I wasted hoping and wishing that you'd wake up and see that I was waiting for you? Of course you don't! You were too self-involved to even notice! Now that I think about it, I'm not sure you ever cared about me _at all_!"

Ron's eyes widened and he took a step back like he'd just been slapped in the face. "The fact that you could even think something like that," Ron began, speaking through clenched teeth, "only proves what I've always suspected."

I was sure I didn't want to know. "Get out," I said, not wanting to give him the opportunity to hurt me more than he already had.

Ron moved towards the door but not before telling me exactly what he'd been thinking. "You're _mental_!"

Tears began to gather in my eyes and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him see me cry. "Get out!"

"You know," Ron said as he reached the door, "I never thought I'd say this after all the rotten stuff he's pulled on me, but I feel sorry for George! After spending a few days married to you he's going to wish he'd lost both ears so that he wouldn't have to listen to that big mouth of yours!"

"OUT!"

He swung the door open, and jumped back slightly, startled to find Ginny and George standing just outside, Ginny's hand balled into a fist and raised like she had been about to knock. I thought I heard her say something about supper being ready, but her voice came out so squeaky that I couldn't be entirely sure. No doubt they'd overheard our entire fight.

"Good luck with that one, mate," Ron said to George as he pushed himself between his two siblings. "You're going to need it," he called over his shoulder before disappearing down the stairs. As soon as he was gone, Ginny started towards me, her arms already reaching out, ready to comfort me but I held my hands up to stop her.

"It's alright, Ginny. I'm okay," I said, even as tears were trailing down my face. "Tell your mum I'm not feeling well. I just," I paused, struggling to hold it together in the presence of my two friends, "I just need to lie down for a bit."

I crossed the room and crawled on top of my bed, lying down and closing my eyes and hoping that George and Ginny would be gone the next time I opened them. I appreciated that Ginny wanted to help, but I felt like I was about to come apart and I really didn't want to do that in front of other people. I heard the door being gently closed, and I heard footsteps making their way back down the stairs and as soon as it was quiet and I was convinced that I was completely alone, I curled up into a tight ball on the bed and began to sob. Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming towards me and I jerked my head up in time to see George settling himself on the bed.

I wiped furiously at my tears, "George, what are you doing?"

He didn't say anything but he grabbed my arms and began to pull me towards him.

"George, please, this is _embarrassing_," I said, still crying and trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Right, because you've never seen _me_ fall apart before." He let go of me though, sliding himself across the mattress until he was able to rest his back against the wall.

"That was different," was all I said.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. But, from the looks of it, you just had your heart broken. I know first-hand that that's serious business."

He was right. The first and only boy I'd ever really loved, the only boy I'd ever thought loved me, had been horrified by the thought of spending his life with me. I whimpered, involuntarily, and bit my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. George reached for me again, and this time I didn't struggle. I crawled towards the place where he was sitting, and when I was close enough, he hooked an arm under my knees and turned me, pulling me so that I was sitting across his lap. Resting my head against him, I let myself cry while he rubbed wide, soothing circles on my back.

"Hermione?" George asked softly after we'd been sitting there for several minutes. "You need to talk to him. Soon."

I leaned back to look at him. "You want me to talk to Ron?"

He nodded.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Didn't you hear the awful things he said to me?"

"Unfortunately," George said, frowning. "But you should know by now that Ron says some pretty stupid stuff sometimes. It's like he can't help himself, so you shouldn't really hold it against him." He paused but when I opened my mouth to protest he quickly added, "He was being a git and you deserve an apology for some of the things he said but, Hermione, even you have to admit that what you said about him not caring about you was a bit harsh."

I narrowed my eyes at George, my lips pursed together but he just grinned back at me. "You're very cute when you pout, Granger."

I gave him a playful shove but then settled myself against his chest again, without even thinking about it, and his hand moved up to absentmindedly stroke my hair. "Why are you so concerned about Ron, anyway?" I asked.

"I'm not," he answered rather quickly, but then I felt him shaking his head. "I mean, of course I am. He's my brother. But, really, my reasons are pretty selfish."

"How so?"

"Well, because I know how the two of you are. You scream, you fight, you make up. Scream, fight, make up. And, honestly? If the two of you are going to make up and decide to skip the country together or something, I'd rather you do it before you and I get married if you don't mind. I'd really prefer to spare myself the humiliation of having to tell people that my wife left me for _Ron_." George let out a low chuckle, resulting in gentle vibrations in his chest which I felt against my cheek. It made me smile.

"Alright, fine. But, if I promise to talk to Ron, will you do something for me in return?"

"Anything," George said, and the speed and confidence with which he answered caught me off guard a bit.

"Will you... will you talk to Fred? Please?"

"Hermione," George said, warning me. But whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a loud CRACK (and a startled shriek from yours truly) as Fred apparated into the room.

I held a hand to my chest, willing my racing heart to slow down. "Goodness, Fred! You have to stop doing that!"

"My apologies, Granger," Fred said, giving me a cheeky smile as he lowered himself onto Ginny's bed. "What are you two doing in here, anyway?" He eyed the non-existent amount of space between George and me, as we slowly and awkwardly moved away from each other. "Trying to recreate that dream, eh, George?"

George cleared his throat. "Did you need something, Fred?"

Fred seemed to suddenly forget why he was teasing his twin, becoming very serious. "Don't tell me you forgot already, George! You're supposed to be convincing Hermione to join our cause!"

"Your cause?" I asked, very warily.

"Fred's none too happy with the choice the ministry made in regards to his marriage partner," George explained.

"Mil... Mill... Oh! See? I can't even say it! It's too terrible!" Fred dropped his head between his knees and began to rock himself back and forth.

George leaned forward to pat his brother on the shoulder. "Millicent Bulstrode," he told me. "Slytherin."

I knew who she was. She'd held me in a headlock once during a dueling club and just the thought of her made me shudder. Poor Fred. "But, what can I do to help? There's no way out of these arrangem--"

Fred looked up at me suddenly. "Hermione, I forbid you to say it! I don't know what we're going to do but we're going to do SOMETHING. We're Fred and George Weasley, for Merlin's sakes! And you, Hermione, with your book smarts and your eye for detail, you're just the right person to help us formulate the perfect plan!"

There's no way that this could turn out well...

*****

Thank you SO, SO much for all the wonderful reviews! You have no idea how happy they make me! Sometimes, I feel stuck on a particular part of the story and then I receive one of your great reviews and it makes me anxious to continue! So, thanks!

I probably won't do another update over the weekend. I'll be out of town and probably won't have an internet connection, but I will have my computer with me and I'll be writing so that I can get something up hopefully by Sunday evening or Monday! Hope you all have a great weekend!


	5. Chapter 4 Some Things Never Change

Sorry, sorry, sorry for the delay. I'll admit, I was just having a difficult time getting motivated to write this chapter.. but, once I finally got into it I had fun with it, so I hope you all enjoy it. And, hey, I believe this is my longest chapter yet!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Please don't sue me.

*******

Fred sat, frowning over his cup of hot cocoa. "I can't believe we haven't thought of anything yet," he said, pushing the cup away so he could rest his forehead on the kitchen table. "Two whole days and not one good idea. I never thought I'd say this, George, but I think we've lost our touch."

I sighed, closing the book of marriage law regulations which I'd just reread for the fifth time. "The ministry must be really determined for this to work. I've never seen such securely and explicitly composed laws before."

George raised his eyebrows at me. "Read lots of laws and legal jargon, do you?"

The way he said that made me feel like the goody-goody bookworm many had always accused me of being, and I became a little defensive. "Just because some of us are interested in how the wizarding world is organized and maintained doesn't mean--"

"He was _joking_, Hermione," came Fred's muffled voice.

George nodded in agreement. "When we were at Hogwarts, Fred and I spent loads of time going over the school's rules and regulations."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course you did."

"We did!" yelled Fred, his head popping up from the table.

"If you don't know the rules--" George began.

"--how can you expect to successfully break them?" Fred finished and they both grinned.

I shook my head at them but I couldn't help smiling back. "You two are impossible."

The grin slowly faded from Fred's face and he sighed. "If all else fails, I suppose we could always stage my own kidnapping. I could go live on a deserted island where the ministry and Millicent couldn't find me." He was joking, of course, but George's eyes suddenly went wide, something that didn't go unnoticed by Fred. "Aww," Fred reached over and draped an arm across George's shoulders, "would you miss me, cupcake?"

"Not funny, Fred."

"Oh, don't worry, brother dearest! You know I'd never go anywhere you couldn't follow me."

George was silent and he didn't blink for a while. It was obvious that he was near tears. Fred must have seen it, too, because his expression softened as he stared at his twin. He had to be puzzled by George's mood swings.

"Alright," Fred said, pushing himself away from the table and his mug of hot (now cold) cocoa. "I have an idea. Or, at least, I have an idea of where I might get an idea."

George and I both gave Fred questioning looks but he didn't explain himself any further.

"George, I'll be back at the flat in a bit and we'll talk more then. G'night, Hermione. Thanks for the help." And then, Fred was gone.

George muttered a few words and our cups rose from the table and drifted across the room before landing in the sink where they began washing themselves. "Right, well, I reckon I should be off, as well," he said, standing up. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for trying to help Fred."

"Don't mention it. You know, I don't normally go about looking for ways to break the law, but... it _is_ rather cruel that the ministry paired him with_ Millicent Bulstrode_. What on earth were they thinking?"

George gave me a grim smile. "I don't know but I do know that I don't want her as a sister-in-law. Can you imagine," George suddenly laughed loudly, "the four of us going on double dates?"

I laughed, too, a little nervously. While it was certainly strange and unpleasant to imagine spending time with a girl who'd tried to choke me once, even stranger still was the idea of being on a date with George Weasley.

"I suppose that idea is odd for other reasons, as well," he said, like he'd known just what I was thinking. It was then that I became very aware of the fact that George was watching me, a small smile still displayed on his lips, and my heart beat quickened just a bit. I had always admired the bright and contagious smiles of Fred and George, but suddenly, somehow, George's smile wasn't bright and contagious anymore. It was almost... _alluring_, slowly pulling me in...

"Oi, Fred!" Ron shouted, running into the room. When he saw George and I staring at each other, he stopped in his tracks and I immediately averted my gaze away from George, choosing to stare at my feet instead, as a warm flush crept over my face.

"Fred's not here," George said, and I thought I heard just the faintest trace of annoyance in his voice. "Is there anything that _I_ can do for you, Ronnikins?"

Ron narrowed his eyes at his brother. "I thought I heard Fred."

"And you most certainly did. Afraid you just missed him, though."

"Well, where is he?"

George shrugged. "Dunno."

"_You_ don't know where _Fred_ is?"

"Contrary to popular belief, we aren't actually joined at the hip, you know. But, now that I think about it, that might be entertaining to try sometime."

I giggled which caused a wide, cocky smile to spread over George's face, but Ron just rolled his eyes. "Are you up to something?" he asked, glaring at George. "What am I saying? Of course you're up to something."

George beamed back at him. "Don't flatter me so, little brother. You're making me blush."

"Don't be such a prat. I don't care what you do as long as you leave me out of it. Mum just wanted to know if Fred is bringing Millicent to the wedding tomorrow." Ron didn't even have to fight back a smile as he spoke. Apparently, even he was sympathetic to Fred's misfortune.

"Wedding?" I asked, speaking up for the first time since Ron had entered. George looked to me and then back to Ron, waiting for him to explain, but Ron was pretending he hadn't heard me.

"Ron's wedding is tomorrow evening," George said, and then he frowned. "You didn't know?"

I shook my head, not wanting to speak for fear that my voice wouldn't work. I knew that the ministry had specified that all engaged couples should be married within six weeks, but I never thought that Ron would be getting married just a few _days_ after we received our letters. It was so soon. Too soon.

"Tell mum that Millicent won't be there," George said, never taking his eyes off of me.

"Fine," Ron said, and then he turned and left.

I could feel the tears beginning to well up in my eyes and I let my chin drop to my chest. Ron and I had hardly even looked at each other since our fight, and now I was less than 24 hours away from losing him forever.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see George standing over me. "Go talk to him," he said, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting go and backing away. "I'll see you tomorrow." Then he was gone.

-----

By the time I worked up the nerve to follow George's advice, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had already turned in for the night and the Burrow was eerily quiet as I tiptoed up the stairs to Ron's room. Passing the room where Ginny and I slept, I noticed that she was not in her bed, and I shook my head, smiling to myself, because I knew that Harry probably wouldn't be in his bed, either. The rest of the Weasleys were totally oblivious to the fact that their youngest member was sneaking out of the house almost every night to snog Harry Potter without the threat of being caught, but I knew that's what she was doing. In fact, she'd tried (on more than one occasion) to provide me with unwanted details of Harry's phenomenal kissing abilities. I'd finally convinced her to stop with the over-sharing of information when I threatened to tell Ron what she and Harry were up to. Ron was really okay with their relationship, but no brother wants to know that his sister is sneaking out every night for passionate snog-fests with his best friend.

When I reached the top of the stairs, I noticed that Ron's door was open and the light was still on. I knocked very gently and, when I didn't get a response, I slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside. "Ron?" He was pacing back and forth across the room and didn't even look up at me. "May I come in?"

His shoulders slumped. "Hermione, I really don't have the time or the energy right now."

"I don't want to fight," I said, weakly. No matter how many times we'd argued (and there had been _many_ times) and now matter how angry I was with him, it always hurt to know that he was upset with me. "Please?"

"Fine, come in."

I stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind me, and went to sit on Harry's bed. "What are you doing?" I asked, trying my best to sound casual and polite.

He let out a short huff of laughter. "Can't you see I'm pacing?"

"Well, why are you pacing?"

"Dunno. Can't help it."

"Are you... are you nervous?" I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping Ron hadn't heard the way my voice cracked. "About tomorrow I mean?"

He finally stopped moving long enough to look at me. "Terrified. I can't relax. Can't sleep. And I don't know where in the bloody hell Harry has disappeared to." Ron flopped down on his bed and several minutes passed without either of us saying anything.

"Ron?" The only response I got was a grunt but I continued, figuring that was the best I could hope for. "Why you didn't tell me that the wedding was tomorrow?"

"Well, because our last conversation didn't exactly go too well, now, did it? I haven't felt up for round two quite yet." His tone was harsh and his words were clipped, but after looking at my face, he sighed and continued, much gentler this time. "I figured one of the many other Weasleys in the house would tell you." He dropped his gaze to the floor and his voice became little more than a mutter. "I really do want you to be there, you know..."

I didn't answer. I wasn't sure what to say. I was still hurt that he hadn't told me. I was touched that, even after our fight, he still wanted me to be there. I was devastated that I was losing him...

When I finally did speak, I surprised even myself. "Do you love me?"

Ron looked up, eyes wide, staring at me as if I'd just sprouted extra limbs or something and I almost regretted opening my mouth. But then he nodded. If it's possible for your heart to swell and break at the same time, that's what happened to me at that moment.

I smiled through the tears that had begun to fall. "I love you, too." I meant it with everything in me, but I suddenly realized that I meant it in the same way that I knew he meant it: I loved him because he knew me so well, because we had experienced so many things (both good and bad) together, because he'd come through for me every time I'd really needed him. While a small part of me was truly in love with him, the bigger part of me loved him because he was my best friend.

"I suppose it never would have worked," I said, laughing despite the fact that I was still crying, and Ron came to sit beside me. He put his arms around me and I turned to wrap mine around his neck.

"Yeah. I think you might have strangled me before we even left the ceremony."

"Ron," I said, swatting his arm, "I'm being serious."

"I don't know, 'Mione. I reckon no one will ever really know what would have happened." He stopped, gently grabbing me by the arms and pushing me back until he could look at my face. "But I do know that you're bloody brilliant, and beautiful, and you're my best mate. You, me, and Harry, we'll always be around for each other, you know?"

I placed a hand to my heart in mock surprise. "Ronald Weasley, I think that's the sweetest, most sensitive thing I've ever heard you say."

He shrugged his shoulders in a way that was meant to convey humbleness, but the grin on his face indicated that he was quite pleased with himself. "But, I swear if George treats you badly I'll make it my life's mission to make him miserable."

The thought of Ron trying to go up against the Weasley twins (because if he picked a fight with George, Fred would most certainly rise to the challenge and join ranks with his twin) was hilarious but I contained my laughter, not wanting Ron to think I was laughing at him.

"So are you two on speaking terms again?" came a voice from the doorway and I turned to see Harry, hair slightly mussed, and his lips and nose pink. A small smirk formed on my lips. Ron was blind if he couldn't see that Harry had been snogging Ginny.

"There you are, mate!" Ron said, looking relieved.

I forced my lips to relax and concentrated on keeping a straight face. "Honestly, Harry, where have you been? Didn't you know Ron has been in here working himself into a fit because he's so nervous about tomorrow?"

Harry just glared at me. He knew that I knew where he'd been.

"I wouldn't say I was working myself into a _fit_, Hermione. That's a bit exaggerated," Ron said, frowning.

I sighed, a happy, contended sigh, feeling confident that no matter how many unexpected twists and turns life threw at me, there were some things I would always be able to depend on. I stood up and leaned over to press a kiss against Ron's cheek, and then I walked over to Harry and reached up to press a kiss to his cheek, as well.

"Good night, boys," I said, and then left the room, feeling much lighter and happier than I had an hour ago. I would have to properly thank George the next time I saw him.

---

I had just finished changing into my pajamas, and Ginny was already sound asleep, when I heard a gentle tapping at the bedroom window. Clutching my wand in one hand, I used the other to open the curtains, and was relieved to find an owl hovering just outside, a letter in its beak. I opened the window to let the bird in, noticing the magenta ribbon displaying three W's, tied to one of it's legs. It was one of the many delivery owls belonging to Fred and George and their shop. As soon as I took the letter, the owl flew back out through the window, obviously not waiting for a reply.

"Come to our flat. We need to talk," was all it said, and then it was signed, "Hugs and kisses and all that jazz, Your favorite Weasley Twins."

********

I know that there has been a lot of Ron/Hermione focus up to this point but, I really didn't want to rush things. I want it to be at least a *little* believable for Hermione to develop feelings for George, so that's the reason for all the R/Hr stuff. But, now that they have some closure, Hermione can be more free to move on to bigger and better things :D

Huuuuuuge thanks to everyone who has reviewed! It is especially fun to see what, exactly, you are enjoying most - what makes you laugh or makes you sad. I like to write my own, original novels, so it helps me to see what kinds of scenes get the best reactions. Thanks, also, to those of you who have offered suggestions! Even though I don't plan on using any of the specific suggestions, you'd be surprised how a couple of different ideas can mix and inspire something totally different! So, by all means, suggest away! You never know when one of the ideas might fan the flames of my muse :D

You guys are awesome!


	6. Chapter5 Never Take Candy from a Weasley

First of all, I just wanted to assure you guys that, even though I may be a bit slow with the updates, I promise I will not abandon this story. I get frustrated when I get into a good fanfic only to have the writer discontinue it, and I promise not to do that to you. And I promise not to be TOO slow. (Like, I won't let several weeks or months go by without an update.) I'm always thinking about this story and I'm working on it constantly, so, just rest assured that the updates will keep coming until this story is finished! :) Unless I die, I suppose.. :\ :P

I intended to include more stuff in this chapter, but I reached a good stopping point and decided to go ahead and post this. I figured it would be better to go ahead and post this bit than to make you wait several more days for a longer chapter. (I'm not leaving anything important out.. the other stuff will just be in the next chapter.)

Also, you may have noticed that I raised the rating from T to M. This story will not have smut, it will not be overly graphic, and it will not be vulgar. But, along with some language/violence/war/etc., it will definitely include content of a sexual nature. I guess that should be kind of obvious since this is a *marriage* fanfic and married folks tend to discuss/desire sex... but I just wanted to give a little warning in case you aren't comfortable reading about that sort of thing, or if you're a minor and you know that your parents wouldn't approve. I don't wish to offend or corrupt anyone so I just wanted to make myself clear. :)

Anyways. Having said all that, this chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I'm not making any sort of profit off this story. Please don't sue me!

(Oh, and looking back over my previous chapters, I've caught a few typos so thanks for ignoring those!) :D

*****

At the flat above the Weasley twins' joke shop, I found George in the living area, wearing his pajamas and sitting in front of a fire, just staring into the flames. From somewhere in the back, I could hear the faint sound of water running and I guessed that Fred was in the shower.

"George?" I asked, surprised that the sound of me apparating hadn't been enough to get his attention.

"That was fast," he said, turning to look at me before pushing himself to his feet. I noticed his eyes drawing up and down my body, taking in my purple and white polka-dotted pajamas, and he grinned. "Didn't wake you, did we?"

"No." I felt myself blushing and, even though it was summer, I suddenly wished that I was wearing my thick, long-sleeved flannel pajama set instead of the matching shorts and tank-top I had on. "Is something wrong?"

"No," George said, shaking his head. "But there's been a new.. err.. _development_... in our plan." I waited, expecting him to explain but he just shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other before adding, "Probably best to wait for Fred before we discuss it. So, did you speak to Ron?"

I noticed how quickly George changed subjects and the fact that he seemed unwilling to discuss "the plan" made me nervous. Still, I tried to push those thoughts aside for the time being, something that, surprisingly, wasn't that difficult to do as I recalled how happy my conversation with Ron and Harry had made me feel.

I nodded my head in answer to George's question and he responded with an acknowledging nod of his own but he didn't press me for any details. I assumed he was trying to be polite and respect my privacy, but, since George was technically my fiance, I felt that he deserved to know what happened. "Ron told me he loves me and I told him that I love him, too," I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth, accompanied by my brightest smile. George cocked an eyebrow at me, clearly not expecting to hear that. He looked confused, but whatever else he might have been feeling or thinking, he was hiding it well.

"Ermm... Congratulations?" he said, sounding unsure, and I laughed. It was rather fun to think that I, Hermione Granger, had puzzled one of the Weasley twins, and I decided that I might as well confuse George even more while I was at it. I hurried towards him, throwing my body against his and reaching up on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck. Several seconds passed, and I laughed to myself as I pictured how bewildered George must look, but he finally reached up and placed his hands on my back, holding me tightly to his chest. The embrace was different - his arms lankier than Ron's, his torso more toned from all his years playing quidditch, the fingers splayed across my back were longer and thinner. It all felt so unfamiliar. But it felt really good.

"Not that I mind," George began as I lowered myself back onto the heels of my feet and pulled away, "but what was that for? Is that my consolation prize for losing you to my brother?"

I vigorously shook my head, an ear-to-ear smile on my face. "That was just my way of saying thank you."

"For?"

"For convincing me to talk to Ron. I realized that, while I do love Ron, and always will, I don't love him the way I thought I did."

George's brow was furrowed as he tried to follow me. "Care to expound upon that?"

"I just..." I paused and sighed, feeling impatient because George wasn't understanding my point, "I realized tonight that I've only been in love with Ron because I thought I _should_ be in love with him. Ron and I are best friends and it just made _sense_ for me to be in love with him."

George laughed. "Nothing about being in love with Ron makes sense, Hermione. In fact, Fred and I always wondered how someone as bright as yourself could have such horrible taste in men."

I stuck my tongue out at him but then I laughed, too. "Ron is a good guy. He just isn't the right one for me."

"Good to know, since you're _my_ fiance now, and all," George said between laughs, but as the last word left his mouth, his smile faded and so did mine, the air around us suddenly tense and uncomfortable. I cared, very deeply, for George Weasley; but the idea of him being "the one" had never even crossed my mind.

In an attempt to hide my discomfort, I turned away from George and walked towards the fireplace, focusing on the strange objects (all original Weasley twin inventions) resting on the mantelpiece. There was something that looked like a little ball of fuzzy, powder-blue, fluff, which shook excitedly when I got close to it, and next to that was a clear, plastic box filled with some sort of purple jelly substance that jiggled and churned on it's own. Several other objects lined the shelf and I wasn't sure I wanted to know what any of the contraptions did. But, at the far end of the mantelpiece was a little glass candy dish, holding what appeared to be a dozen or so small, hard candies. They were the bright-red color of ripe cherries, and my mouth began watering just looking at them. I reached out to grab one and then stopped, remembering that I was in the home of Fred and George Weasley and reminding myself that extreme caution should be taken, especially before ingesting anything created by the two notorious pranksters.

"What are these?" I asked, pointing at the candies.

"Well, they're obviously sweets, aren't they?" George said, like I'd asked the silliest question he'd ever heard. "We don't have a name for them yet, but you're welcome to try one, if you'd like. They're quite innocent." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants with an air of determined nonchalance.

I laughed. George should know better than to think he could pull me in that easily. "What do they do? Scorch your mouth and make you breathe fire? Or maybe give you a high fever so that you can get out of school or work?"

He shook his head, making a gentle_ tsk-tsk_ sound. "Hermione, I am deeply hurt that you don't trust me." The corners of his mouth were twitching as he fought back a smile.

"Yes, I can see that you're devastated." I looked back at the candies. They did look good. "Fine," I said, and George bounced up onto the balls of his feet, looking a little too happy. "But only if you eat one first."

He shrugged his shoulders, grinning widely now, and walked across the room to join me. He reached in and grabbed one small candy in between his thumb and index finger, and then proceeded to make a dramatic show of putting it in his mouth; opening wide and placing the little red candy on his tongue before closing his mouth again. I waited, watching very carefully, but nothing happened. His cheeks became a bit flushed, turning a soft, rosy, red in the light of the fire, but he didn't appear to be in any pain or discomfort.

"Open your mouth," I said, still unconvinced.

He laughed in disbelief. "What? Why?"

"I want to make sure that you actually ate it."

George rolled his eyes, still smiling, and opened his mouth, bending over a bit so that I could see inside. The candy was gone, his tongue red where it had dissolved. I reached up and placed a hand to his forehead, checking for a fever, and his eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

"These things are quite pleasant, actually," he murmured, now with a much more subdued smile.

Perhaps I was beginning to feel a bit delirious from lack of sleep, or maybe I was just going crazy, but I believed him. Nothing bad had seemed to happen to him yet, and I knew that, though he loved a good laugh, he'd never put me in any actual danger. And those candies _did_ look tempting.

I reached up, retrieving one small candy from the dish, and before I could chicken out, I popped it into my mouth. At first it was just like any other hard candy I'd ever had, but after just a few seconds, I felt it burst on my tongue, releasing a warm liquid center. It tasted fruity, like a mix of juicy cherries and strawberries and plums, but the flavors were mingled with the subtle spiciness of cinnamon. It was delicious but, when it was gone, I couldn't feel anything different about myself.

"I don't feel anything, George," I said, surprised to find myself just the tiniest bit disappointed.

But then George grinned at me. It wasn't a _joyful_ grin, really. It was smooth, and devilish, accentuated by the wicked glimmer in his eyes. "Are you sure about that, Granger?" he said, his voice lower and rougher than I'd ever heard it.

And then I felt it. There was a subtle, but definitely pleasurable, tingling warmth in the pit of my stomach which was slowly spreading through my entire body, down to the bottoms of my feet and out to the tips of my fingers which, I suddenly noticed, were coated in a small amount of sticky, red residue from the candy. On reflex, I lifted my thumb to my mouth and stuck it in, licking it and grazing the flesh with my teeth to get the stuff off, and then I repeated the action with my index finger until I was sure that it, too, was clean.

There was a sharp intake of air followed by an exclamation of, "Great Merlin's beard, Hermione! Stop _doing_ that!" And when I looked at George, he was staring at me with wide eyes. If he hadn't looked uncomfortable earlier, he definitely looked uncomfortable now.

I immediately released my finger from my mouth. "I didn't... I was just..." my mind was too hazy to form an explanation.

"It's okay," George said, heaving a sigh and roughly running a hand over his face, "just, _please_ don't do that again."

I let out a mumbled apology and then turned, intending to go sit on the sofa, but my shoulder bumped the mantlepiece and the candy dish, sending it hurtling to the floor where it shattered, spilling it's contents all over the place.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I said, bending over to start cleaning the mess. Having spent my first 10 years of life as a muggle, I still sometimes forgot that I could use magic.

"Don't worry about it," George said, kneeling down beside me and grabbing my wrist before I could grab the biggest piece of the broken candy dish. "I'll get it."

The moment George touched me, it felt like an electrical jolt was sent through my body and I lost my balance, and would have fallen over, but he reached out and placed a hand on each arm to steady me. That would have been a good thing except for the fact that the additional skin-to-skin contact only made me feel more light-headed. I closed my eyes, keenly aware of the position of each and every one of his fingers, gently wrapped around my arms, and the sensation made my entire body shiver.

"Ohhhkay," George said, loudly and suddenly before pulling me to my feet. As soon as my feet were safely planted on the floor, he dropped his hands and backed away. "Perhaps I shouldn't have let you eat one of those."

The abrupt loss of contact cleared my mind long enough for me to become embarrassed by my behavior. "I _wouldn't_ have eaten one if you had just _warned_ me about the _effects_!"

"Well, you know, I thought it might be kinda funny," George said, backing even further away when he saw my nostrils flaring in anger, "but I have to be honest and say that I really hadn't anticipated getting this sort of reaction from you."

"How could you not expect this reaction after I ingested something obviously designed to make people--" I paused, having a hard time even saying the word, "_lust_." My face burned as I fought the urge to go hide. I was one of the most mature witches I knew, definitely the most mature for my age, but there were certain things that I was just too shy to talk about.

"Ahh... umm..." George stammered, his face scrunched up into a grimace, and I couldn't tell if he was trying not to laugh at me or if he was intimidated by my anger. Probably the former, if I had to guess. "Well, you see, that's not _exactly_ what this particular product does," he continued. "It only heightens and intensifies an _existing_ attraction."

"What?" I said, my voice becoming high-pitched and squeaky as the humiliation began to sink in.

"It's okay, Hermione. It's nothing to be ashamed of, really." His tone was sweet and sincere and it made my heart do this silly pitter-patter thing. But then he added, "I get this reaction from girls all the time, even without the influence of spells and potions. I'm quite used to it," and he flashed an arrogant smile which only made me want to hit him. Instead, I just spun on my heel, crossing my arms over my chest and turning my back to him. "Aww, don't be upset with me," he said, and I could hear the laughter in his voice, making me even angrier.

But just a second later, his hands were on my shoulders, trying to turn me around and, though his gesture was innocent, my heart began to pound at the feel of his hands on me, and my brain quickly turned to mush. Before I even had the chance to think about what I was doing, I spun around to face him and lifted a hand, reaching up to comb a few fingers through his hair before gently stroking his one, good ear. He looked surprised as first, but then he leaned into the touch, turning his head slightly to snuggle the side of his face against my hand.

"As you can see," he began, his eyes fluttering shut as he struggled to maintain control, "it's not as if I'm totally unaffected..."

I took a small step towards him even though I wasn't entirely sure what I planned to do. All I knew was that he looked beautiful and vulnerable and I wanted to be closer to him, despite the small voice in my head that was screaming for me to stop. George must have been hearing that same voice because his eyes suddenly popped open and he swallowed hard as I closed the distance between us.

"Hermione, don't," he said, his voice weak and pleading.

"Why?" The word sounded so strange coming out of my mouth. I knew that I was behaving in a way that was completely bizarre and uncharacteristic, but I couldn't seem to help myself.

"Oh, I think I could give you quite a few reasons," he said, but his breathing was shallow and he sounded unsure.

"Like?" I said, rocking up onto my tippy-toes, bringing my face closer to his.

"Like," he began, and I could see that he was struggling to concentrate, "the fact that my twin will be walking in here any minute, now? Like the fact that I'm George Weasley and you're Hermione Granger and you only stopped pining after my little brother less than a few short hours ago?"

"Well, yes. But, you do remember that you and I are engaged now, don't you?" I asked, believing that that little fact made all his reasons moot.

"A bit hard to forget something like that, isn't it?" he said, playfully rolling his eyes. "But, engaged or not, we both know you're acting on an impulse that you would normally never act on."

I knew that. But I also knew that I liked the way his eyelashes fluttered when I touched him. I knew that his breath was warm and sweet against my face. I knew that I wanted to kiss him. "Your point?" I asked, and then tilted my face up, eager to press my lips to his.

"My _point_," he said, sidestepping me, and walking around the room until he'd actually placed a chair between us, "is that while you're thinking that you really, _really_ want to snog me senseless right now, I can almost guarantee that you're going to regret all this as soon as the effects of that potion wear off." I opened my mouth to protest but he just shook his head at me. "If you still want to kiss me tomorrow, Hermione, let me assure you that I'm more than up for the task." He winked at me, causing my stomach to flip, and I began to make my way towards him. "No you don't!" He said, maneuvering around the chair to keep it between us. "I want you to sit down, right there." He pointed to the sofa which was separated from the chair by a long coffee table. "Go on."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but gave in, turning and heading towards the couch. I sat down, pulling my bare feet up onto the sofa and hugging my knees to my chest, and once I was settled, George let out a relieved sigh and then moved to sit down in the chair. We stared at each other for a while, but then I noticed George becoming uneasy again, his right leg bouncing restlessly.

He groaned, obviously frustrated by something, and turned around to grab a blanket which was draped over the back of the chair, and then he tossed it at me.

"What's this for?" I asked, lifting the fabric from where it had landed in my lap.

"Use it."

"But, I'm not cold." I started to fold the blanket and place it beside me, but stopped as George let out a small whimper.

"Hermione, _please_. I think I've proven that I've got quite a bit of self-control, but even a gentleman like myself can only take so much, you know."

Honestly, I didn't know. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"I've seen _cheesecloth_ thicker than those bloody pajamas you're wearing!"

I felt my face heating up and quickly proceeded to wrap myself in the blanket while George concentrated on looking anywhere but at me. When my head and feet were the only parts of me still visible, George relaxed against the chair once more and allowed himself to look at me again.

"Don't worry. It should wear off in another 10 minutes or so." He stopped for a second, offering me a gentle smile before finishing, "We'll both be feeling nice and awkward soon."

"Awkward about what? What did I miss?" came a voice from behind me and I turned in time to see Fred walking into the room, pulling a t-shirt over his head. Little droplets of water still clung to the ends of his hair. He came and sat beside me on the sofa, looking back and forth between George and me as he waited for an answer. "Hermione," he said, studying the blanket that was securely tucked around my body, "are you _cold_?"

George erupted in laughter, the most sincere I'd heard from him since before the night of the final battle, and Fred and I both stared at him. He composed himself fairly quickly but didn't explain himself to his twin. Not that he needed to. I watched as Fred's gaze was drawn to the glittering pile of broken glass that still lay on the floor in front of the fire, tiny, red candies scattered all about it. A huge grin broke out across his face.

I buried my face in my knees, certain that I had just discovered a whole new level of humiliation.

*****

Thank you SOO much for the reviews! Even though I've assured you that I will not abandon this story, I hope you all will still continue to review and let me know that you're enjoying it! I get SO excited when I login to my email and see that I have new reviews!

And thanks to everyone who is following this story. Over 80 people, now! Wow!


	7. Chapter 6 Buying Time

I'm having so much fun with this story, and I think I have some really great scenes and chapters coming up! I hope you're all still enjoying! :)

I still don't own any of it; this is just for fun. Please don't sue.

*I'm a bit rushed at the moment but wanted to get this posted for you all. Please forgive me for any typos or mistakes.

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"So," Fred began, still grinning. "Which one of you is going to tell me what happened?" He propped his feet up on the coffee table and crossed his arms behind his head, making himself comfortable. "I want all the details: Who initiated it? Who said what? Who _touched_ what?" He was enjoying himself far too much.

"_Nothing_ happened," I said, my voice muffled since my face was still buried in my knees.

"Yeah, not for your lack of trying, though," George said, laughing again. I glanced up then, shooting him the most threatening look I could manage, but he didn't even have the decency to _pretend_ to be ashamed of himself.

Fred just shook his head, vastly amused by the whole thing. "It's like I've always said, Georgie. It's the quiet, intellectual types you have to look out for."

"Fred Weasley, I swear--"

"Now, now, Hermione," Fred interrupted, speaking in a smooth, comforting tone, "no need for modesty or bashfulness here." He and George were wearing identical grins.

"I'm glad that you both find this so amusing," I said, feeling a heat growing inside of me that I was sure had nothing to do with the candy. I was so angry, so embarrassed, I could barely think straight and I found myself wishing that I could just disappear. Then I remembered that I was a witch; I _could_ just disappear.

"If you two are finished humiliating me, I think I'll be going now," I said, standing up, without thinking to take the blanket with me.

"Great Merlin's beard!" Fred exclaimed, repeating the same line George had used earlier in the evening. I was already standing in the middle of the room, ready to apparate back to the burrow before I realized that Fred and George were both staring at me and my stupid pajamas. I silently scolded myself for not changing before coming to the flat. "Why in the name of all things good and magical have you been depriving the world of those _legs_, Granger?" Fred asked in awe, his eyes traveling from my bare feet up to the place where my shorts came to rest on my thighs.

"Oi!" George had noticed Fred's wandering gaze and didn't appear very happy about it. "I would appreciate it if you kept your eyes and mind _off_ of _my_ fiance's legs, if you don't mind."

Fred was staring at George with both eyebrows raised, looking more entertained than alarmed by his twin's outburst, and Fred and I both watched as George stood, gathering the blanket from the spot where it had fallen on the floor, and then proceeded to make his way towards me. Reaching around me, he draped the blanket over my shoulders and then pulled the fabric together in the front until I was covered up once again, and then, pleased with my renewed state of decency, he returned to his chair. For a moment, the three of us exchanged awkwardly silent glances, but suddenly, the twins were laughing. The entire situation - the candy, the fact that I was engaged to George Weasley and that he had just defended my honor from his twin's impure thoughts - it was all just so absurd, and it didn't take long before I was laughing with them.

"Is there a reason why I'm here instead of asleep at the burrow right now?" I asked, making my way back to the place I'd been sitting just a few moments earlier. I was sure to hold on to the blanket this time. "Something about 'the plan'?"

"Ah, yes," said George, his demeanor quickly becoming very serious and business-like. "Suppose we should get down to it, then."

"Alright," I said slowly, feeling very anxious. I still wasn't happy that the twins were going through with the whole "plan" idea, but I'd tried to keep my reservations to myself. Fred was desperate to find a way out of his upcoming marriage to Millicent, and I knew that George was going to do anything he could to help him. Since there was no point in trying to stop either of them, I resigned myself to the task of helping them, mostly to ensure that the boys didn't land themselves in St. Mungo's or in Azkaban. "So, what's the 'new development'?" I asked, recalling what George had said earlier.

Fred squirmed uncomfortably in his seat but didn't speak.

"Right," George said, speaking up for his unusually quiet brother. "You remember earlier tonight when Fred said he had an idea of where to get an idea?"

"Yeah..." I said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Well, he went to see Millicent."

My hand flew to my mouth in surprise as I turned to Fred. "You did what?"

Fred nodded, solemnly. "I figured she'd be able to help us. Slytherins are known for doing _whatever_ it takes to get what they want, you know? Only..." Fred fell silent again, and the look that came over his face was that of a truly helpless, hopeless man.

"Only," George said, picking up where his brother left off, "it turns out that Millicent isn't all that opposed to the idea of marrying our dear Fred."

"_What_?" I certainly hadn't expected that. "Are you sure? What did she say?"

"Ohh," Fred groaned. "It was awful, Hermione. I barely made it inside her flat before she jumped on me. Literally, jumped on me! One moment, I thought I was standing there all alone, and the next moment she comes flying at me from out of nowhere like a mad-woman. Practically shoves her tongue down my throat!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George chewing on his bottom lip as he fought back the urge to smile. I was vaguely aware that Fred was still speaking but his voice seemed to fade into the background as I watched, entranced, as the perfectly white teeth gently grazed what I imagined was a very soft, very kissable lip... Hmm. Maybe the effects of the candy hadn't _completely_ worn off yet. George released his lip, which was now darker and slightly swollen, and it joined the other to form a slow, subtle, smirk. Lifting my gaze a bit, I found George staring back at me and when our eyes met, he raised one, ginger-colored eyebrow at me. Embarrassed, I allowed my hair to fall forward, draping itself across my cheek and hopefully preventing George from noticing the deep blush that had settled there, and then I turned my attention back to Fred who was still describing his encounter with Millicent.

"...and had me pinned against a wall while she pawed at me! I spent half an hour in that ridiculously hot shower and I can _still_ feel her hands on me!" Fred shuddered, and then turned to me. "I really need your help, Hermione."

I'd never seen Fred so distressed and I was just about to assure him that I'd do whatever I could (hadn't I already agreed to help?), but George began speaking before I could say anything.

"You need to understand," he said in a serious tone, his words directed at me, "that you have every right in the world to say no. Right, Fred?"

It took him several seconds but at last he nodded. "Yeah, of course."

I felt a nervous knot lodge itself in my stomach. "Why? What do you have in mind?"

The twins exchanged a silent look and when George gave Fred a nearly undetectable nod, Fred began to speak. "Well, we've been thinking--" he said, rather slowly,

"--and we really couldn't come up with any other way..." George continued, even more slowly.

My palms were beginning to sweat and my pulse was racing. It did _not_ make me feel better to see that Fred was slowly inching himself to the furthest side of the couch. "Just spit it out, already!"

"How would you feel about having another go at being Millicent Bulstrode?" Fred asked, blurting the words out with such speed that I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly, but when I noticed both boys wincing as they prepared themselves for my reaction, I realized that my ears had not been mistaken.

I looked back and forth, from one red-headed twin to the other. "I get it," I said calmly, causing Fred and George to glance nervously at each other. "Harry and Ron told you how I messed up and turned myself into a cat in second year and you two thought it was the perfect time to tease me about it. Ha Ha. Very funny." But neither boy was laughing. They weren't even close to smiling. "You can _not_ be serious," I said, shaking my head at them. "Nuh uh. No way."

"Hermione, it's okay if you want to say no," George said and Fred nodded, but both of them were staring at me, eyes wide and pleading and hopeful and... adorable...

"How could me pretending to be Millicent possibly help anything?"

"It would help, dearest Hermione," Fred said, in a sugary sweet voice, "by buying us priceless--"

"--infinitely invaluable--" George offered.

"--time," they finished together.

"Time?" I repeated, not quite sure that I was following.

"The ministry is forcing these marriages to happen so bloody fast," Fred began, "that it doesn't give us enough time to devise a proper plan of action. But if _you_ were to, I don't know, say, drink some Bulstrode-seasoned polyjuice potion and pretend to marry me? Well, you see, that would get everyone off our backs long enough for George and I to come up with a more permanent solution."

I took a deep, steadying breath. "You want me to pretend to be Millicent Bulstrode, and pretend to marry you in front your family and friends, because you do know your mum would never let you elope, on just the _chance_ that you and George can come up with a better idea?"

Fred and George both frowned at me. "I'm disappointed in your lack of faith, Granger," Fred said. "We already have several plans in the works, but we need more time for testing and perfecting. You wouldn't want us hurting ourselves now, would you?"

"What about Millicent? Won't she suspect something when the deadline comes and goes and she's not married to you?"

Fred nodded thoughtfully, as though he'd been prepared to answer this question. "We set the wedding date for the last possible day, and then I conveniently come down with a severe case of the troll flu. I tell her the ministry has granted us a special extension, and by the time she begins to get suspicious, we'll have another plan ready."

"What about your family?" I asked with a sigh. "Won't they suspect something when they see that the two of you are never together?"

George grinned, apparently thinking that my resolve was beginning to weaken. "We tell them that _she_ has a severe case of the troll flu and has been confined to solitary bed-rest."

"What about all the paperwork? What about the ministry? You know that the marriage ceremonies are supposed to be performed by ministry officials."

"All taken care of," Fred and George said together.

"What? What do you mean?"

"We have the support of someone on the 'inside'," Fred said. "But, our man would prefer to remain anonymous. And, really, for your own sake, the less you know about it, the better."

"Oh my goodness." I buried my face in my hands, trying to calm myself. "You two are going to end up in prison. Are you really willing to go to Azkaban over this?"

"Hermione," George said, getting up from his chair and moving to sit on the coffee table directly in front of me. He grabbed my hands and pulled them away from my face, forcing me to look up at him. He gave a gentle squeeze to the one hand he was still holding onto. "We won't get caught."

Fred, who was scooting closer to me again, nodded in agreement. "You'd be amazed by some of the things we've gotten away with over the years. Stuff that was _loads_ more dangerous than this."

"And even if we _were_ caught--" George said.

"--which we _won't_ be," Fred interjected.

"But if we _were_," George continued, "we'd make sure that you couldn't be connected with any of it. We wouldn't ask you to do this if there was a chance that you could get in any real trouble, Hermione."

Fred reached out and took the hand that his twin wasn't holding. "But if you still want to say no, it's alright. Really." And with that, they both felt silent, watching me with hopeful but patient expressions, letting me know that this was my decision.

As I looked back and forth between the two sets of identically blue eyes, I couldn't help but think of Harry and Ron. How many rules had I broken for them? How many times had I done something illegal to help them? To be quite honest, I'd lost count. I might have complained at times, and I might have been afraid of getting caught, but I always came through for them. Why? Because they were my friends. I wanted to help them and I knew that they wouldn't hesitate to offer their help if I had needed it. In my heart, I knew that Fred and George were no different. Though they'd pranked me more times than I cared to remember, they were my friends, and after everything that had happened on the night of the final battle, I felt just as bonded to George and Fred as I did to Harry and Ron. Maybe even a little more so... If they were asking for my help, how could I possibly turn them away?

"You do realize," I said, giving both boys a gentle smile, "that the lacewing flies must be stewed for twenty-one days, right? It'll be nearly a month before the potion is ready." The twins glanced at each other and then back at me, their faces lit up with equally wide grins. "So," I continued, "we don't need to waste time. We need to get started as soon as possible."

"No worries," George began. "We always have a batch of polyjuice potion brewing. We use it in some of our products, actually."

"Very useful stuff," Fred said, nodding thoughtfully before smiling at me. "So what d'you say, Granger? Want to get hitched next week?"

************

Thanks SO much for all the awesome reviews! I love, love, love knowing that you all are enjoying this story. Please keep those wonderful reviews coming because they really do make me anxious to write more! :)

**Fredsnumber1-girl**: I'm glad you mentioned wondering why George was so much more in control of himself than Hermione was because that is something I was thinking about as I wrote the scene. The way I see it, George has more experience with those particular types of feelings, while Hermione had never really experienced such an intense physical desire for anyone. She lost control of herself much more easily because she was confused and overwhelmed by feelings that she didn't even really understand. I hope that makes sense :) It certainly doesn't mean that Hermione feels a stronger attraction for George than what he feels for her, so I hope no one interpreted it that way.. It's just that Hermione was experiencing something totally new for her and didn't know how to handle it as well as George did. (Not to mention that, while George wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him, and he was clearly struggling, he was trying to be a gentleman and protect her from doing something he was afraid she'd end up regretting.) I'm glad you were left hoping for a kiss! The maddening anticipation leading up to the first kiss is always my favorite part of any love story!

You guys are so great! I'm really excited about some of the stuff that will be coming up soon. I hope you'll continue to stick around and read! :D

Oh, and just to make it clear, Hermione will only be pretending to marry Fred. The "marriage" will not be legal or binding in anyway. While Fred is certainly flirty with Hermione [and I love it that way!], and while George isn't really bothered by it, this isn't going to be a Hermione/Weasley sandwich fic ;)


	8. Chapter 7 Ron's Wedding

Okay. I've had this chapter finished since early last night but for some reason, I've been unable to upload the document. I kept getting an error message saying they couldn't convert my document so... I e-mailed the site support folks but still haven't heard back from them so I don't know if my issues are unique to me and my file or if others are having the same problems but, hopefully we'll get it figured out before I try to post the next chapter.

This chapter is more than TWICE as long as my others have been! YAY! Some of it is fluff but, I saw HBP again this past week and got all sad when Dumbledore died and it got me thinking about how terrible it's going to be to watch Fred die. Ugh. I can't even think about it. I'm just going to stay in my bubble of denial and pretend that George and Hermione go back and save him :D But anyway, that's why there is a bit of fluff in this chapter. I needed to cheer myself up.

J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. Please don't sue me :)

I'm really sorry if there are lots of typos or if any of my sentences are awkward. It's really difficult to proof-read in a room full of other people who are watching football... ;) And I have a REALLY crummy internet connection right now, but I promise to come back later and fix any mistakes that I catch. It's just been driving me nuts wanting to get this posted!

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When I awoke the next morning, it was to the sounds of footsteps, the opening and closing of doors, and raised, hurried voices calling out from all different corners of the burrow. I rolled over, pulling the covers up over my ears in an attempt to block out the noises which were disrupting my sleep, but Ginny barged into the room at that moment, muttering angrily to herself as she stomped across the wooden floor. Realizing that I wouldn't be getting anymore sleep, I began to stretch, watching as Ginny paced back and forth. When I yawned, she turned around to look at me.

"_Finally_, Hermione! I thought you were going to sleep all day! You're not coming down with something, are you?" she asked, sitting down on the foot of my bed. "It's not like you to sleep so late."

"I'm fine. It just took me a while to fall asleep last night." Probably because I'd stayed up with George and Fred until four in the morning, going over _the plan_. I yawned again. "Why? What time is it?"

"A little after noon."

"_What_?" I threw the covers back and scrambled out of the bed. "Oh my goodness, Ginny, why'd you let me sleep in so late?!"

"Well, because you looked exhausted." Ginny was still sitting on my bed, watching me as I frantically gathered my things for a shower. "I imagine that staying out until well past four in the morning could do that to a girl, though." When I turned to look at her again, she was wearing a sly smile.

"What do you mean?" I asked, as innocently as I possibly could.

"Don't even try it, Hermione. I got up for a glass of water at 3:30 this morning and, imagine my surprise when I found your bed empty!" Her smile widened and I suddenly realized how much she looked like the twins when she grinned like that. "Where were you?"

Part of _the plan_ was to keep things as simple as possible. This meant that the three of us would do our best to keep people from being suspicious (or, at least, more suspicious than they already were around George and Fred), and it also meant that, in the event that we were questioned, we'd answer with the truth whenever possible. The last part especially applied to me, since, according to Fred and George, I wasn't nearly as experienced at lying as they were. So, shrugging my shoulders and trying to appear as if what I was about to say was the most natural thing in the world I told Ginny the truth. "I was with Fred and George."

Her mouth dropped open, and she looked at me in silence for a few seconds, but then she started laughing. "Since when do you spend all night hanging out with _them_?"

"Since last night." I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling a bit offended by the tone of her voice. "They _are _my friends, you know."

"No, I know that. It's just a bit weird, I suppose. You're a very unlikely trio."

Hmm. It was a bit strange to think of myself as part of a _trio _with the twins. "Well, I might as well get used to spending lots of time with them since George and I _are _getting married..."

"Wow," Ginny said, frowning. "I've been a really rubbish friend. I haven't even asked you how you're handling everything."

I sighed, giving her a gentle smile. "It's alright, Ginny. It's certainly not what I expected but..." I let my voice trail off, not even sure what I'd been planning to say. _It could be worse? At least George is my friend? A friend who, deep down, I apparently want to snog?_ Thankfully, I was saved from having to explain.

"Ginny Weasley!" came a deafening shout from Molly Weasley.

Ginny rolled her eyes but didn't waste any time in getting up from the bed. "I can't believe I have to be _in _this wedding," she said, picking up the long, white garment bag that was draped across her bed, and heading towards the door. "I barely even know Hannah and her bridesmaids gowns are hideous!" She swung the door open, just as her mother screamed her name again, but this time it sounded much closer.

Mrs. Weasley appeared at the door just a moment later, looking rather frazzled in spite of her lovely yellow dress and perfectly curled hair. "Come _on_, Ginny! Your father, Ron and Harry are already at the Abbott's and you and I should have been there ten minutes ago!"

"Coming mother," Ginny said, sulking as she picked up a shoe box and a small makeup bag.

"Oh, Hermione, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at me like she'd only just noticed that I was there. "Fred and George should be here in just a little while and the three of you will be taking a portkey to the Abbott mansion." Her smile faded just a bit as she took in my appearance. "Oh, but dear, you need to hurry and get ready!"

I nodded, smiling politely, and as soon as she and Ginny were gone, I rushed down the hall to the bathroom for a quick shower, and then ran back to Ginny's room to fix my hair and make up.

My hair was set in long, loose waves (held perfectly in place by an assortment of magical products) and I'd just finished applying a light layer of pink gloss to my lips when I heard the Burrow's front door open and close, followed by a loud, chorused call of "Granger!" from both of the twins.

I poked my head out through the door, still only wearing a towel. "Just a minute!"

I hurried over to Ginny's closet, searching inside for the brand new dress that I'd bought for myself a little over a month ago when the ministry first announced their plans for the marriage law. I didn't buy things for myself very often, but the shopping trip had given us (Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and me) an excuse to introduce just a bit of normalcy back into our lives after the war, and I figured I could use a new dress if I was going to be attending a lot of weddings.

After I found the dress and slipped it on, I stepped in front of the mirror to examine myself. The dress was a navy, layered chiffon number which fell just below my knee and the straps were wide, forming a modest v-neck. Three rows of clear beads were sewn just under the bust line and they sparkled delicately whenever the light hit them. The only problem was that I couldn't reach to get it zipped completely. Heaving a sigh, I picked up a small clutch (enchanted so that I could easily store my wand inside, along with a few other necessities), and in my other hand I picked up a pair of silvery, strappy sandals. With one final glance in the mirror, I hurried out of the room and down the stairs, finding Fred and George sitting in the kitchen, their feet propped up on the table. They both stood, grinning, when I entered the room, and I couldn't help but notice how handsome they looked in their black tuxes.

"We ready to go, then?" George asked, still smiling and staring at me in a way that made my face heat up.

I nodded, but then remembered why my upper back felt a little breezy. "I need some help with the zipper." Fred grinned and shoved his twin towards me, so I gathered my hair to one side and turned around. I could feel George behind me, his fingers tugging on the zipper, and then, suddenly, his mouth was near my ear.

"Did you want this zipped _up_ or _down_?" he asked slowly, his voice gentle, teasing me. I could tell that he was smiling, but the sound and feel of his breath against my ear stirred something in the pit of my stomach. Thankfully, I was much more in control of myself than I had been the night before, and the sound of Fred laughing behind us was more than enough to keep my mind clear and focused.

"Hmm," I said, pretending to consider his question. "It depends. Do you want to appear in all your brother's wedding pictures with a red hand-print across your cheek?"

George chuckled, pulling the zipper up in one, easy movement. "Just testing you, Granger. So I suppose this means I can relax and not worry about you trying to seduce me again tonight?"

I smirked. If George wanted to play, I could play. I might be shy and I might be nervous about the butterflies which were flitting about in my stomach at the sensation of George's body just barely leaning into mine, but I could play his game.

"I don't know, George," I said, turning around to face him. I pressed a hand to his chest, right over his heart which suddenly began to beat at a quick pace. He looked down at me, the slightest trace of surprise flickering across his face, but his expression quickly became smug as he realized what I was doing. He opened his mouth to say something but I moved my hand, reaching up to press one finger to his lips and he obediently closed his mouth again. "But I promise to answer your question," I said, pausing as I let my hand drop to his chest once again, "if you promise to tell me what you were doing to me in that dream of yours." Fred burst out in laughter, and I smiled, but continued to watch George, staring at him with what I hoped was my sweetest, most innocent expression.

He was staring back at me, shaking his head and smiling, but his cheeks were undeniably pink and he had to clear his throat before he could speak. "No deal."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Suit yourself," I said and walked away, looking back once to see if he was watching me as I went. He was. And, even though my heart was thrumming against my ribcage, I couldn't deny the powerful feeling that came with knowing that, not only had I flirted with George Weasley, but I'd actually left him flustered. I stopped at the front door and stepped into my shoes before turning back to the twins, both of whom were staring at me as if they had no idea who I was.

"Are you two coming or are you going to stay here all evening?"

Fred was the first to reach me and he draped an arm across my shoulders. "Have we ever told you--" he began.

"--how much we like you?" George finished, winding an arm around my waist as he caught up just a second later.

--------------

The ceremony took place in what appeared to be an old ballroom at the Abbott mansion, with wooden floors and walls that were completely lined with mirrors and shiny, golden accents, reaching from floor to ceiling. The guests (and, oh, were there a LOT of guests!) were seated in rows of chairs which were upholstered in a silky, creamy-white fabric. It was all so beautiful, and even I had to admit that Hannah looked like a fairy-tale princess as she walked down the isle in her wedding gown. She looked so happy. I hadn't even thought about how she might feel about being forced to marry Ron but, she was smiling, never taking her eyes off of him, and Ron never took his eyes off of her.

It made me so happy, and yet so sad, and by the time they began the exchange of vows, tears were forming in my eyes and I struggled to keep them at bay, fearing that someone would see me and pity me, saying: _Oh, look! There's Ron's ex. The poor dear must be so heartbroken!_ I tried to calm myself, focusing on the nearly-silent inhale and exhale of air as I breathed through my nose, but then I watched Ron slip a gold band onto Hannah's finger and my throat tightened involuntarily. I closed my eyes, breathing in, breathing out. I opened my eyes. The ministry official was saying something about the magical bond of love as Ron and Hannah stared deeply into each other's eyes, and, unable to stand it any longer, I looked to Harry for support, but Harry was staring at Ginny who was staring back at him, both of them with big, silly grins on their faces. Fresh tears formed in my eyes.

I thought back to that first train ride to Hogwarts, when I'd met Harry and Ron for the first time. I hadn't known then that I was meeting two people who would drastically change my life, all for the better. I hadn't known that I was meeting the two boys who would grow to become the very best friends I'd ever had. And, now, as I watched Ron pledging his life to someone else, and as I watched Harry, smiling at the girl he was head over heels in love with, I realized that, as much as we loved each other, the three of us were being pulled in different directions, and I felt like my heart was being pulled apart, as well.

The tears spilled down my cheeks and, once again, I tried to wipe them away before anyone could see. George, who was standing up front with Ron and Harry and the rest of the Weasley brothers, looked over at me just then, and upon seeing my tear-streaked face, he frowned. I watched as he leaned forward, whispering something into his twin's ear before straightening up, and then they were both staring at me. I closed my eyes, hating that they'd seen me like this, and also worried that George would misunderstand and assume that I was crying because I wished that I was the one up there with Ron. When I opened my eyes again, I cast a nervous glance at George, wondering how I would best explain myself after the ceremony was over, but then George shocked me by waggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner before blowing me a silent kiss. I wasn't sure how to respond to that but before I could do anything, Fred, clearly in on whatever it was that George was attempting to do, flashed a goofy grin and stuck his tongue out at me. George then gave me a ridiculously exaggerated wink, and I giggled. Out loud. Oops. I could feel Fleur glaring at me but I didn't turn to look at her, and I was glad I didn't or I would have missed seeing George's snort of laughter which he tried to cover with a cough. Unfortunately, Percy, who was standing behind George, seemed to think that his brother really was having a coughing fit and he began slapping him on the back in an attempt to help, which, of course, only served to make George laugh even more. I looked on, noticing the way Fred's eyes were twinkling as he pictured the scene unfolding behind him, and noting Percy's concerned expression as he continued to pat George on the back until George finally composed himself, covering with a very convincing, apologetic smile at the ministry official and then at his mum. He gave me another, less exaggerated wink, and then turned his attention back to the ceremony. My cheeks hurt as I forced myself to contain the laughter that was so desperate to break free, and I couldn't even remember why I'd felt so miserable just a moment ago.

--------------

"You know," Harry said as we turned and swayed in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by dozens of other dancing couples, "I think everything has worked out for the best, Hermione."

I pulled back to look at him. "Meaning?"

"Err.. well.. you and Ron. Marrying other people." He grew quiet, studying my face for my reaction. When I didn't explode, he continued. "I know that Ron loves you and I know that you love him, but I've never really believed that you were right for each other."

"Thanks," I mumbled. I understood what he was saying, and I even agreed with it, but it still didn't feel good to hear it coming from someone else, especially from Harry who knew Ron and I both so well.

"It's just..." Harry began, looking towards the ceiling as he contemplated the right thing to say. At last he sighed, abandoning his task of coming up with something tactful. "The way you two bicker now? Imagine what it'd be like when you've been married for twenty years! The two of you would have driven me _insane_!"

I stepped on his foot, trying to play it off as if I'd lost my rhythm to the song, but I was sure Harry knew it'd been intentional.

"Ow!"

"Whoops." I said, smiling innocently. "Sorry."

He narrowed his eyes at me but he didn't let me go. "All I'm saying is, the ministry probably noticed the way you and Ron were always fighting, and they thought it'd be best to pair you both with someone more compatible."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, you mean like pairing me, Hermione Granger, with one half of the most infamous, most mischievous, prankster-pulling duo that the wizarding world has ever seen? Oh, yes, that's a match made in heaven, Harry."

Harry grinned but his face quickly became serious again. "You could do a lot worse than George Weasley, you know."

"I know."

"He might put something in your shampoo to dye your hair neon-pink every now and then," Harry paused, smiling at the nervous whimper that escaped me, "but he'll be good to you."

I smiled and pulled my friend closer, resting my chin on his shoulder as we danced. "I know, Harry."

_He'll be good to you._ That was the fifth time I'd heard that sentence tonight. I'd already danced with Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill, and Charlie, all of whom had assured me that George cared about me and would be a good husband. Bill and Charlie, however, had also added that I knew where to find them if George ever proved them wrong. I thanked them, but I knew I'd never have to take them up on their offer. I might not have been sure of many things concerning George and my future with him, but I knew that he was a good man. I didn't need anyone to convince me that he'd treat me well; I had never doubted that.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you for a favor?"

Harry pulled back to look at me. "Yeah, of course."

"Would you--" I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile even though I could feel my eyes tearing up. "Would you give me away at my wedding? It's just... since my parents don't currently remember even having a daughter, I think it's safe to assume that they won't be coming to the ceremony." I tried to laugh but my chest ached as I thought of how much I missed my mum and dad. Being related to me, one of Harry Potter's closest friends, made my muggle parents an easy target of the few Death Eaters who'd managed to survive the war and I'd had to send them away, modifying their memories and distancing myself from them in order to protect them. A tiny sob escaped but I forced myself to continue my request. "You've always been like a brother to me and since my dad can't walk me down the isle, I'd like you to do it. If... if you want."

"Hermione," Harry said in a soothing tone, offering a sympathetic smile before pulling me into a tight embrace. "I promise Ron and I are going to find the rest of Voldemort's followers and make it safe for you to bring your parents home. But, yes, I'd be honored to give you away at your wedding."

"Thank you." I pulled back and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

We went back to our dance, but then, just to our right, I noticed a large area of the floor being cleared as people moved to the sides to make room for one couple who was spinning and twirling, out of control, across the floor. I heard them first, their loud and happy laughs, and just a moment later, two figures came into view, one several inches taller than the other, but both with flaming red hair. Fred had Ginny in his arms, gliding around the room, spinning and twisting and dipping her, even though the song playing was a soft waltz. Harry and I both stopped, joining the other surrounding couples who were now watching the two exuberant dancers, and Harry and I joined in the crowd's laughter. But, a bright mass of red hair, visible over Fred's shoulder, caught my attention and I let my gaze drift across the room until I found myself looking at George. He was standing all alone, leaning against the wall, and though he was watching his twin and Ginny dancing, he wasn't smiling the way everyone else was. He was clutching a glass filled with some sort of amber-colored liquid, and even from across the room, I could see the way his hand trembled as he brought the glass to his lips, downing the drink in one swallow. I looked back at Fred and Ginny. Ginny was squealing and laughing, deep, true, belly laughs as her brother continued to lead her in their very own, albeit _strange_ dance. Fred was smiling, the ends of his shaggy, red hair beginning to stick to the perspiration on his forehead. His face was practically glowing with life as he laughed with his baby sister.

And suddenly, I could feel what George must be feeling. What if we'd been unable to save Fred? What would that night have looked like if Fred wasn't there with us? The rest of us would still be there, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and all of their other children would be there to support Ron. Ginny would still dance with Harry and with the rest of her brothers. We would enjoy each other's company and be thankful that Voldemort was gone. We might even laugh, but not the way Ginny was laughing right now. Fred would have wanted us to laugh, of course. He would have hated it if his family had wasted their lives moping and mourning him; he probably would have been the most angry with George. But how would they have moved on? How would we be able to celebrate, to laugh in that completely happy, carefree way, knowing that Fred wasn't there with us? I fought back tears as I realized how close we came, how close _George_ came, to losing him.

I started pushing my way through the crowd of people, trying to get to George. I wanted to comfort him. I wanted to hold his hands the way I'd done that awful night. I wanted to show him that he wasn't alone. I just wanted to make him feel okay.

But, when I finally made it through the crowd to the place he'd been standing, he was gone. I looked around for him, but it was no use. People were walking past and dancing and standing, and all of them were in the way, blocking my vision and preventing me from finding the person I was seeking.

I felt an arm at my waist, someone was pulling me towards them, pulling me back in the direction I'd just come from. "Dance with me, Granger."

"Fred. You startled me." I said, letting out a loud breath of relief, partly because the stranger who'd grabbed me was only Fred, and also because I saw George again, now standing and talking with Ron and Hannah, a glass of water in his hand.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," the closest twin said, pulling me to him as he began to twirl our bodies in time with the music. "Really, Hermione, I hope you can learn to tell the difference between my twin and me before we're married. I mean, Fred's a very handsome, very _tricky_ creature. What if he tried to seduce you and you gave in thinking it was me?"

I reached up, pressing my hands to each side of his face, and slowly worked my fingertips towards his temples, coaxing a sly grin from his lips, and then I gently caressed his _two _good ears. "Nice try, _Fred_."

His grin only widened. "Ah. I forget that my twin and I aren't exactly identical anymore. Perhaps I should curse one of my ears off, as well, so we can be a matching set again."

I shook my head at him, smiling gently. "I'd still be able to tell you apart. Your personalities may be nearly identical, but you do have a few very subtle physical differences. Like the way George's nose turns down just a bit more than yours does at the tip, and the way your chin is just the slightest bit shorter than his. And George has a small freckle on the left side of his neck while you have one on your right cheekbone."

Fred was staring down at me, watching me with curious eyes and a small smirk on his lips. "You've certainly been studying us very carefully, Miss Granger. Why is that, I wonder?" I felt my face growing red, but I remained silent, holding my head high in defiance. "You've always fancied us, haven't you?" he asked, his tone light but nonetheless accusatory.

"No." I said in a firm voice. Fred and George were arrogant enough as it was; there was no need for them to know that a small part of me had always found them attractive. "I most certainly have _not_."

Fred didn't look convinced. "After all these years of being around us, no one could blame you for succumbing to our charming ways. I can see it in your eyes. I know you've considered it."

"Considered what?" I asked, my voice shaky and rising in pitch at the end.

"Being with George. Or Me." His eyes suddenly lit up with a wicked gleam and he leaned closer, speaking more quietly. "Or both, maybe?"

"Fred Weasley!" I whispered harshly, looking around to make sure that no one had heard his lewd suggestion.

"My, my, Granger," he said, shaking his head at me. "Look at you blushing. Don't you worry, though; I can keep a secret." He gave me a cheeky wink before adding, "not from Georgie, of course. I wouldn't dream of keeping this from him--Ow!" He looked down at his shin which had just received a quick (but relatively gentle) kick from my foot and then stared back at me in surprise. I just smiled sweetly at him. "Such a feisty little thing," he said, grinning again. I rolled my eyes but didn't try to stop him when he pulled me closer to him and continued to dance.

"Hermione?" he said after we'd been swaying silently to the music for several minutes. His voice was suddenly so soft and so serious that it made me a little nervous.

"Yes?"

"Have you..." he paused and when I looked up, he seemed to be debating whether or not to continue. I watched as his gaze traveled across the room, to the spot where I knew George was standing, and something in Fred's eyes softened. "Have you noticed anything different about George lately?"

"What do you mean?" I asked slowly, scared by the tender look of concern on his face, and scared because I knew exactly why it was there.

Fred looked back at me, frowning. "I mean, _have you noticed anything different about George lately_?" He sighed, but didn't wait for my answer. "He hasn't been himself the last couple of months. He tries to hide it and he thinks no one notices but... I'm his twin. I can always tell when something's bothering him. And something is definitely bothering him."

I snuck a quick glance at George who was now smiling and talking with Ginny and Luna Lovegood. He looked perfectly happy and content at the moment, but I knew he wasn't. Apparently Fred knew it, too. "Have you tried asking him about it?"

"No." Fred laughed, but it sounded sad. "I've never had to ask. I've always just _known_ what he was feeling and why he was feeling it. Why can't I figure it out now?"

"Well..." I took a deep breath, unsure of the right thing to say. Fred deserved to know the truth, and George deserved the comfort of his brother. But was it my place to tell? Maybe George just needed more time. "The war was really difficult on all of us, Fred," I said, in a gentle voice.

His gaze dropped to the floor. "Yeah, I know. We lost a lot of good people, and a lot of good people were forced to kill the bad ones in order to survive." We suddenly stopped dancing and Fred removed his hand from my back, bringing it up to small wide circles against his temple. "I know it was awful, and we're all still working through it. But, life goes on, you know? Our family is all safe, Percy's stopped being such a prat, and our shop is doing surprisingly well. All things considered, I'd say our lives are pretty great at the moment."

"Maybe George--" I began, but my voice cracked with emotion. What Fred didn't-_couldn't_- understand, was that his twin was living every day, struggling with the realization that he'd almost lost him forever. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Maybe George's experience was different from yours. Maybe he's just having a more difficult time moving on."

"But, Hermione," Fred said, his eyes narrowed and his lips curved in a perplexed frown. "George and I were together the _entire_ battle. How could our experiences have been that different?"

I shook my head, trying to fight the tears that were forming in my eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night. "I don't know, Fred."

"I just wish he'd tell me what's going on." Fred's shoulders slumped, revealing just how hurt and confused he felt. "I want to help him."

"So do I."

Fred placed a hand on my shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze. I closed my eyes, tears slowly seeping out between my lids as I recalled how Fred had made that same soothing gesture the night of the final battle, just before he'd been killed.

"Oh, Hermione. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"No, no," I said, waving a hand through the air to dismiss his apology. "It's not your fault."

"I don't care if it's my fault or not. If George looks over here and sees you crying," he paused and raised a hand to my face, using his thumb to brush a tear away from my cheek, "I don't think he'd be too happy with me. We're supposed to be cheering you up." A bright smile settled on his face and he grabbed my hand, twirling me around and around, before pulling me back against his chest to dance again.

I had to close my eyes for a moment and wait for the room to stop spinning. "Is that what he was whispering to you during the ceremony?" I asked, suddenly laughing as I recalled the twins' silly faces and George's "coughing" fit.

Fred nodded, grinning. "And I'd say we succeeded. You should have seen the look Fleur gave you when you laughed."

"I didn't need to see it. I could feel the heat from her eyes boring into the side of my head."

Fred and I both laughed, and I turned my head, resting the side of my face against Fred's collarbone, thankful that George was still standing in the same place and that I could see him clearly from the spot where Fred and I were dancing. But then, I noticed that George was not alone. A very pretty girl with long, dark hair was standing in front of him, her entire body leaning towards him as she reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm. With her other hand, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and I saw that it was Katie Bell, fellow Gryffindor, former member Gryffindor's quidditch team, and George's ex-girlfriend. I felt something unpleasant flaring up inside of me and I quickly turned my head to face the other direction, stubbornly assuring myself that whatever I was feeling, it most definitely was _not _jealousy. Absolutely not.

----------------

Most of the wedding guests had gone outside to see Ron and Hannah off, but I chose to stay inside, not really wanting to think about the fact that Ron was on his way to spend the first night of his honeymoon with his new bride. Thankfully, Harry stayed behind with me, assuring me that Ron would never notice his absence. We sat together in silence, watching the few remaining couples who'd stayed in to continue dancing.

"So," Harry said, staring at me with a goofy grin on his face.

"What?"

"Do you wanna make a bet on how long it will take Ron and Hannah to _seal the deal_?" He waggled his eyebrows in a way that was much more humorous than seductive.

"_No_," I said, hurling a wadded-up napkin at his head. "No, I most certainly do not." After all those years, assuming that Ron and I would end up together, assuming that he and I would be the ones leaving together, his "sealing the deal" with Hannah Abbott was the last thing in the world that I wanted to think about. Even though we all agreed that Ron and I were better off as friends, it was still weird to know that he was going to be with someone else. The thought of it still caused just the slightest, painful tug at my heart.

"_Hermione_..."

"What?" I said, my voice snippy and irritated.

He frowned at me. "I thought you were over Ron."

"I _am_," I huffed."I'm not harboring any romantic feelings towards Ronald Weasley."

"Right. You're just sitting here and sulking over the fact that he is about to sleep with someone else."

"I am not sulking, Harry. It's just weird, alright? You know better than anyone that there was a lot of uncomfortable history between Ron and me. So, no, I don't want to think about what he's about to be doing with Hannah and I certainly don't want to _talk _about it."

"Good." He paused for a long moment, but then he grinned. "Because I can guarantee that he isn't thinking about either of _us _right about now."

"Harry! Ugh!" I propped my elbows on the table and cradled my face in my hands.

"Come on, Hermione. Lighten up. You wouldn't want George thinking of anyone else when the two of you..." he trailed off, suggestively.

"Hermione doesn't want me thinking of anyone else when we _what_, Harry?" came another, very amused, voice.

I peeked out between my fingers only to find George standing behind Harry. He was staring at me, a devilish grin on his face. I groaned and let my head fall forward to rest on the table, only looking up to glare at Harry when he mumbled something about needing to talk to Ginny. When he was gone, George collapsed into his chair.

"Would you like to tell me what the two of you were just discussing, Miss Granger?"

I vigorously shook my head. "It was nothing."

George just laughed. "I don't think your face would be that gorgeous shade of pink if it was nothing." When I didn't say anything, he sighed. "Fine. But we're going to have to talk about it sometime, you know." But, instead of pushing the issue, he stood up and walked around to my side of the table where he knelt in front of me and began removing my shoes. "These things look so sodding uncomfortable," he said, frowning as he struggled with one of the straps.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my surprised question cut off by a sudden laugh that escaped as one of his fingers brushed the sole of my left foot.

"Sorry," he said, though he was smiling at my reaction. "I was just thinking that after you danced with my twin, my father, three of my other brothers, and Harry, it's only fair that you dance with _me_ now." I raised my eyebrows at him and when he looked up at me, he laughed and added, "not that I was keeping track or anything."

"That's okay." I shrugged my shoulders, but was inwardly flattered that he'd obviously been watching me the whole night. "I wasn't keeping track of you and Katie Bell, either."

"Saw that, did you?" he said, grimacing.

"Mm," I mumbled in response, my lips pursed together in a small frown.

"Well, just so you know, I feel absolutely nothi--" He stopped, his mouth curving into a smirk. "What was that?"

My gaze darted around nervously. "What was what?"

"The way you said '_Mm_' all unhappy-like." George stared up at me, his eyes narrowed. "And that little look you just gave me."

"Honestly, George, I don't know what you're talking about." Realizing that I'd accidentally betrayed how I really felt about seeing Katie fawning all over George, and hoping to play it off as nothing, I forced a laugh.

George was positively beaming now. "Are you _jealous_?"

"What? Of course I'm not jealous. That's ridiculous."

"Oh, so you wouldn't be bothered a bit if I told you that Katie was coming on to me?"

I rolled my eyes. "I already figured that out for myself, George. And I'm telling you, I'm not jealous."

"Then you don't mind that Katie suggested I accompany her back to her flat?"

I gritted my teeth and lifted my head to stare at the ceiling, choosing not to comment. I didn't know if he was telling the truth or not, but I _did_ know that he was trying to get me worked up enough to confess to being jealous.

"What if I told you," he continued, when he saw that he wasn't going to get a response, "that when I refused," he paused, leaning forward on his knees and bringing his face within inches of mine, "she practically _begged_ me to follow her to the bathroom for a quick shag?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, nearly convinced that my body might explode at any given minute under the angry pressure that was building inside of me and when George leaned back, he just watched me with raised eyebrows and a smug, expectant expression, waiting for the furious response that we both knew was coming.

"I'd tell you that I find it utterly vile and repulsive that she would be classless enough to proposition someone who does not belong to her, especially when she has her very own fiance to throw herself at. But I am NOT jealous." My breath was coming out in short, heavy bursts through my nose.

"Of course you aren't, love," George said, nodding seriously in spite of the twinkle dancing in his eyes. He began to push himself to his feet but then he stopped, holding himself perfectly still and cocking his head to the side to stare at me. "Did you just imply that I _belong _to you?"

"George..." My head was beginning to hurt from all the talking and teasing.

But, George Weasley was clearly not one to be easily dissuaded. "Am I to assume that means you _belong _to me, as well?"

I let out an exhausted sigh. "In the sense that we are engaged and that others should respect that? Yes."

"Interesting," he said, grinning widely. "I never would have expected to hear you talk about 'belonging' to someone."

I frowned, wondering if my feelings should be hurt by that statement. "And why is that?"

"It's not a bad thing," he said, apparently guessing at what I'd been thinking. "I suppose you've always been so strong and independent that you just never struck me as the type of girl who wanted to 'belong' to a man."

"Yes, well, just because I can think for myself doesn't mean that I..." I paused, my gaze dropping from his and my voice getting much softer, "it doesn't mean that I don't want to belong to someone. And," I laughed at myself, feeling just a little pathetic, "if you think I'm that strong, you obviously haven't been paying very much attention to me tonight or you'd know that I'm an emotional mess."

George chuckled, softly and sweetly, and then rose to his feet. He grabbed my hands from my lap and pulled me up with him, guiding me out into the middle of the ballroom floor. I looked around, noticing that only a handful of people remained, and the music was no longer playing.

"George, there's no music," I said, laughing as he held one of my hands in the air and wrapped his other arm around my waist.

"Alright, so I'll sing for you." He cleared his throat very loudly, acting as if he was about to belt out some sort of ghastly, operatic-style piece of music, but then he smiled, pulling me towards him until we couldn't possibly get any closer. We danced to the sound of George's voice, so low and soft in my ear that it was almost as if he was whispering the song to me, and although I couldn't quite explain why, it was the happiest and most content I'd felt all evening. And, for that moment at least, George seemed happy, too.

********

Ok. So I'm not completely happy with this ending, but I was just really anxious to get this chapter posted. I hope you all enjoyed it, even if I don't feel it was my best work.

Thanks for all the reviews! I love knowing that people are still enjoying this fic so please, if you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Even if you don't have any opinions about the story, I'd still love to hear from others and be assured that I'm not the only one living in denial about Fred... :)

I can't wait for the next chapter... things are going to start getting good! (At least I think so.) I hope you all continue to enjoy!


	9. Chapter 8 A Game of Questions

**Woo! Even longer than the last chapter! :D**

**I try to catch all my typos, but I'm not perfect. Please forgive me for any mistakes you find!**

**I don't own anything... Please don't sue me...**

* * *

There was a contented peace in the Weasley home as everyone finished their supper, and the conversations became quieter and lazier as a result of all the food that had been consumed that evening. Eventually, Mrs. Weasley rose from the table and began to package up the leftovers to send with Percy and with Fred and George (not that there was much left after the Weasley men had had their fill), and Mr. Weasley requested Harry's presence in the living-room where they could be more comfortable to discuss the how's and why's of muggle computers. Ginny shot me a quick, pleading look, but I just shrugged my shoulders, giving her a sympathetic smile. We both knew that Mr. Weasley had a fondness (some might say _obsession_, really) for all things muggle-related, and Harry, wanting to be polite, would indulge Mr. Weasley in _hours_ of conversation about the topic. Ginny slumped her shoulders in defeat and followed her father and her boyfriend out of the kitchen and into the living-room. Percy was gone shortly after, insisting that he had to meet his fiance, Penelope Clearwater, at 9 o'clock sharp and soon, Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George and myself were the only ones left in the room.

"The food was delicious, Mrs. Weasley," I said as I stood, pulling out my wand to help George and Fred who were already clearing the table.

"Well, thank you, dear," Mrs. Weasley called over her shoulder as she bustled about, tidying the room. "I love feeding my family." She stopped what she was doing and crossed the room to the place where I was standing and pulled me into a hug. Being away from my own mother for so long was painful for me, and I'm sure Mrs. Weasley must have known that because she always went out of her way to make me feel included in the family. And she gave the _best_ motherly hugs, even if she did tend to squeeze just a bit too hard.

"You're going to suffocate her, mum," Fred said and George chuckled.

"Oh, hush you two," she said, releasing me and swatting both twins with the dish towel she was holding. "You're next." She opened her arms wide, encircling both of her boys and pulling them close to her as she hugged them. They each gave a slight roll of their eyes but hugged her back before each offering a cheek for their mum to kiss. It made me so happy to see them, to see how happy Mrs. Weasley was now that the war was over and her family was safe, and I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me as Fred and George both reached a hand out to the other's face to wipe away the very faint traces of lipstick that Mrs. Weasley had left behind. Upon hearing my laugh, they dropped their hands and turned to look at me.

"Something funny, Granger?" George asked, his eyebrows slightly raised.

I was immediately unnerved by the way the twins were staring at me and I quickly shook my head. "No. Nothing."

"You know, Georgie," Fred began, not taking his eyes off me. "I think she was laughing at us."

"Mm." George, also still looking at me, nodded in agreement. "I think you're right, Freddie."

"Boys..." Mrs. Weasley said in a warning tone. She had stopped her cleaning again and turned to watch us, and she looked as concerned as I felt.

The twins finally turned to look at each other, Fred's eyebrows were raised and he jerked his head in my direction, a movement so subtle that it was almost undetectable. George responded to his twin's unspoken question with a grin and then they started walking towards me.

"George." I said, sternly, but they didn't stop. "_Fred_. If you two take one more step I'll--" but my threat was cut off as two sets of arms wrapped around me, pinning my own arms to my sides, Fred standing at my left and George on my right. And then, without warning, each twin was placing a series of loud, sloppy kisses against my cheeks.

"_Grosss_! Stop!" I was yelling and struggling to squirm out of their tight hold, but I couldn't stop laughing.

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley said again, much louder this time. "Stop harassing Hermione! You're going to scare the poor girl. I don't want her thinking she's marrying into a family of red-headed baboons!"

"A babbling, bumbling, band of red-headed baboons?" Fred asked, and he and George both let their arms fall to their sides, releasing me as they started laughing together. Mrs. Weasley and I just looked at each other, obviously not in on the joke.

"Hermione, dear," she began, still eyeing the twins suspiciously, "why don't you go on and join the others in the living-room."

I looked around, noting the pile of dirty dishes still sitting on the table. "Let me help you finish cleaning up, first," I said, aiming my wand at the table.

"No, no, no. I insist." Mrs. Weasley said, smiling as she began steering me towards the door. I started to open my mouth to protest but she cut me off. "Go on, now. There's a good girl."

Fred and George were now huddled together on the other side of the room, speaking in whispered voices, and Mrs. Weasley was wearing a big smile that almost made it seem as if _she_ was up to something. _That's ridiculous_, I told myself, but then she shooed me away with a wave of her hand, and I looked back just in time to see her joining in the twins' huddle. Confused, I made my way up the stairs to Ginny's room. I knew that she would have been relieved for me to join them in the living-room, but I also knew that Mr. Weasley would have tried to pull me into the computer conversation, and I didn't really feel like staying up all night to discuss muggle technology.

I'd just sat down on my bed, ready to enjoy some light reading, when there was suddenly a loud pop. Looking up, I saw George standing in the doorway, casually resting against the doorframe.

"Is _this_ what you do every night?" he asked, frowning as he motioned towards me and the book I was holding.

I opened the book and positioned it in front of my face, staring down at the printed letters without really focusing on any of the words. "Yes." It was, more or less, the truth. After all those years of being best friends with Harry Potter, I was more than happy to embrace a few well-deserved months of quietness and boredom.

George crossed the room with just a few strides and plucked the book from my hands. "Well, I think the two of you can survive being separated for a few hours." He let the book fall on the night stand with a soft thud and then reached for my hands and began pulling me from the bed.

"_George_." I didn't really like surprises, especially when either of the Weasley twins were involved. "Where are we going?"

"On a date," he said, continuing to pull me towards the door.

"A date?" I was unsuccessful at disguising the shock in my voice.

"Yes, a date."

I narrowed my eyes, even though I knew George couldn't see my slightly confused, slightly annoyed, expression. "Doesn't a date typically involve _asking_ the other person if they want to go out, not just barging into their room and dragging them towards it against their will?"

George stopped in his tracks, dropping my hand, and for the briefest moment, I was worried that I'd offended him or hurt his feelings. But then he turned around and I could see that he was smiling.

"Do you really expect me to believe that you would turn me down?"

My concern for him was quickly replaced with a sense of total annoyance. "I might very well have said no, George Weasley. I'll have you know that I'm at a very exciting chapter in that book and I'd be perfectly happy to stay here."

George just smirked, a soft snort of laughter accompanying the smile. "Don't try your hand at gambling, Granger. You're a really rubbish bluffer."

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. "I'm not bluffing."

"Yes," he said, taking a small step towards me, "you are."

"No." I took a bigger step back. "I'm not."

He took another step in my direction. "Why do you look so nervous, then?"

I took another step back, letting out just the tiniest yelp as my back met with the wall. George kept moving towards me, stopping only when the toes of our shoes were touching, and even then he leaned into me, placing his hands on the wall on either side of my head to support his weight.

"You look nervous because you _know_ you wouldn't turn me away," he said, raising his eyebrows and looking at me like he was daring me to prove him otherwise.

I shook my head, but didn't try to speak.

George leaned even closer. "I'm not too proud to beg, if it comes to that," he said, his voice suddenly lower, his face only inches from mine.

"That's... that's not necessary." I stumbled over my words, unsettled by his proximity.

He grinned. "I know it's not. But I'll do it anyway if that's what you'd like." I didn't (couldn't) say anything, and he took the opportunity to tuck the hair behind my left ear and lean closer still. "Would you please come with me, Hermione?" he asked, sticking out his bottom lip ever-so-slightly and staring at me with a pleading look in those deep, brown eyes of his.

I pursed my lips and determinedly returned his gaze. "You're really arrogant, you know that?"

He chuckled. "Not arrogant. Just _confident_," he corrected me, his tone light and casual as he shoved away from the wall. "And you're not as immune to my charms as you'd like to think, Granger." He smiled and then turned, making his way towards the door once again, but he didn't try to pull me with him this time. He didn't have to, though, because I followed on my own accord, and we made our way down the stairs, through the backdoor, and stepped out into the night.

George reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. "Lumos." The tip lit up, shining with a soft, bluish-white light. "Do you trust me?" he asked, holding his hand out to me and staring at me with a wide grin.

"I'm not sure you want to know the answer to that." I was joking, (mostly) but his smile faltered a bit at my response, so I quickly placed my hand in his. "Yes, I trust you." His grin grew again and I suddenly felt the awkward, bending, sucking, twisting sensation of apparating, and just a moment later, George and I were standing in the small clearing in the middle of the woods next to the burrow where the Weasley boys and Ginny spent their free time playing quidditch.

George let go of my hand and, with a wave of his arm, he motioned me towards a blanket and several large pillows that had been spread out on the grass. I stared down at my feet, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I wondered if George was thinking that we were going to....

"Hermione?" I looked up, realizing that George had been calling my name. When our eyes met, he shook his head at me in an amused fashion. "Relax." Again he motioned for me to move towards the blanket. "It's not what you're thinking."

Very warily, I made my way to the blanket and lowered myself onto it, crossing my legs and waiting for George to sit beside me. But he didn't.

"Wait right here," he said and began walking away.

"George?"

"I'll be right back, I promise," he called over his shoulder. "I'm not going far. I'll still be able to see you."

The moon was bright enough that it was casting soft shadows, and I could clearly see the light from George's wand as he moved away from me, but I still didn't like being left alone in the dark. I pulled my wand from my pocket, just in case, but I didn't need it because George was back just a few seconds later, collapsing onto the blanket beside me, lowering himself until he was on his back, his head resting on one of the pillows.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Lie down."

"Wh-what?" Seeing George Weasley, his long, lean body stretched out beside me, and hearing him tell me to "lie down" made my insides felt like a giant ball of jittery nerves.

He reached up, grabbing one of my shoulders, and began to gently tug me backwards. "Please? You're going to miss it."

"M-miss what, exactly?" I was still watching George but a soft whirring sound caught my attention and I turned my head, searching for whatever was causing the noise. Then, there was a very soft crackling sound above us, and I looked up in time to see a small, flaming sphere that hung in the air for just a second before exploding into a dozen starburst shapes of silver and purple and blue and green. I gasped, finally relenting to George's pull, and settled down on my back beside him. There was another faint crackling sound, followed by another explosion of bright colors: all different shades of pinks and yellows and oranges. Over, and over, the fireworks exploded (with an impressive quietness) in the air, filling the dark sky with colorful, sparkling lights.

"George, that was _beautiful_," I said, turning my head to look at him when the show was finally finished.

"Thanks." He was still staring at the sky, a proud smile on his face. "Afraid I can't take all the credit, though. Fred helped a bit." The smile slowly slipped away and he fell silent for quite a while. I didn't know what to say, or if I should even say anything at all, so I just kept quiet, as well. I don't know how long we sat there but, when George finally did speak, his words came out as whispers, and he continued to look at the sky. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if you hadn't saved him..."

"George," I said softly, rolling onto my side so that my entire body was facing him. "_We_ saved him. I couldn't have done it without your help."

If he was listening to me, he didn't show it. "I'd probably be passed out in Knock-Turn Alley somewhere, clutching a bottle of fire-whiskey." He laughed, the sound harsh and bitter and so unlike anything I'd ever heard from either of the Weasley twins.

"No." I said, simply and firmly. "You would have been devastated by the loss and you would have mourned for your brother, but you are strong and you would have learned to move on with your life." George scoffed at my words. He didn't believe me. "Yes, it would have been the most difficult thing you ever did, but your family and friends would have helped you." He still didn't look convinced and, once again, I was overwhelmed with an urge to comfort him. I reached out and grabbed one of his hands from the place where it was resting on his chest and I saw him tilt his head, watching our hands as I linked my fingers with his. "_I_ would have been here to help you."

Slowly, he turned his head to look at me, and in the light of the moon I could see that his eyes were glazed over with tears, but he wasn't letting them fall. "I'll never forget that you saved him, Hermione. And not just him; you saved me, as well." He paused, rolling over so that he was fully facing me, our hands still clasped together. "I want you to know that I would do anything in the world for you. It wouldn't be enough - I could never do enough to repay you - but I swear I'll spend my life trying."

The expression on his face was so innocent, so honest and vulnerable, and I could feel tears beginning to prick my eyes. "George, you don't have to--"

"Yes," he said in a firm voice, interrupting me. "I do have to. I need to. I _want_ to. I know that I joke around a lot and I tease you like nothing has changed, but I haven't _ever_ forgotten what you've done for me and how much I owe you for it." I shook my head, trying to figure out what I could say to make George understand that I didn't want anything in return, but when I opened my mouth to speak, George waved a hand to stop me, not letting me interrupt. "What I'm trying to say is..." His stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. "I know we aren't in love. I know that we were forced into this, into the whole marriage thing, and I'm sure that if you felt like you had another choice, you wouldn't be here right now."

Honestly, I hadn't given a whole lot of thought to what my life would be like if the ministry hadn't decided to enforce the stupid marriage law. I supposed Ron and I would still be together, breaking up and then reconciling and breaking up again, and I'd probably be more focused on figuring out what I wanted to do with my career and my life. Marriage would have been a distant thought, a dream of something good to come in the future. And yet, there I was, talking about my quickly-approaching wedding with my fiance, George Weasley.

"But, we _are_ here, and we are getting married," George said, and the way his words perfectly mirrored my thoughts made me smile. "I just... I'm not perfect, Hermione." I expected him to follow up with _I know that's difficult for you to believe_ or some other equally vain joke, but he didn't. He just sighed, looking into my eyes so deeply and so intensely that it was almost unsettling. "I guess I just want you to know that I'll respect you and I'll be faithful and loyal and honest, because that's the very least that I could do to repay you for everything you've done for me."

I started to cry. I knew that George Weasley was fiercely loyal to those he cared about, and I knew that he had a good, true heart, but nothing could have prepared me for the way he was opening it up to me. I opened my mouth but I couldn't find any words and immediately shut it again. He reached out with his free hand and very gently wiped away the tears that were gathered under my eyes.

"I could..." George trailed off, and then took a deep breath, offering a shaky smile before trying again. "I could love you... if you want me to."

My breath caught in my chest. True, the circumstances surrounding our relationship were beyond unusual, and in spite of our mutual attraction (made evident by those silly candies) and in spite of the ridiculous flirting, we were not in love. But, in that moment, when George finished what was, without a doubt, the most beautiful and the most sincere declaration I'd ever heard, something stirred in my heart, and for the first time, I admitted to myself that, even if I wasn't there yet, it would be very easy for me to fall in love with George Weasley.

I wondered if I should tell him that, but before I could, he was letting go of my hand, pushing himself to a seated position. He glanced back at me, like he was waiting for me to follow suit, so I did. I sat up, just close enough to him so our knees were touching, and I watched in interest as he shoved a hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a small, wooden box which he brought towards me, holding it just above my lap.

"Now," he said, turning his head to look at me, "I don't want to insult you by asking you to marry me since you don't exactly have a choice in the matter." I rolled my eyes at him, not even trying to hide the smile on my face, and he gave me a soft smile in return. "But, I would like you to wear this, to make it... _official_." And then, with one gentle flick of his wrist, the box was open, exposing the ring nestled inside.

"Oh my goodness." I was in such awe that I could only whisper. "George, it's beautiful." The ring was white gold with an elegant, swirling design carved into the band, and in the center, there was a single round diamond, so brilliant that I could see the tiny sparkling rainbows it reflected even in the dim moonlight. "But, really, you didn't have to do this. It looks expensive; I don't know that I can accept it." I knew that the joke shop was doing really well, but I also knew that the Weasley family had always struggled financially and I didn't want George thinking that I would condone him spending large amounts of money on me.

"It'd break mum's heart if you refused to accept this," he said, laughing softly as he plucked the ring from it's velvety bed.

I couldn't seem to take my eyes off of the glittering gem. "Your mum?"

"Mm-hmm." George slowly twirled the ring in his fingers. "This was my grandmum's ring. I was going to buy a new ring for you, but Mum is insisting that you have this one."

I thought about the strange grin on Mrs. Weasley's face and the way she'd hurried me out of the room earlier that night and I felt my eyes tearing up yet again. "Your mum wants me to have this?"

"Yes." He said and then lowered his voice to a whisper, even though we both knew we were the only ones around. "Just don't tell Fleur. She might get jealous if she finds out she's not the favorite daughter-in-law."

I laughed and sniffled at the same time and George smiled at me, raising his eyebrows as he sought my permission, and I nodded my head, laughing at myself as I tried to blink the moisture away from my eyes. George took my left hand and focused on sliding the ring into place on my ring finger where it magically adjusted to the perfect size, and then he let go, leaning back and resting his weight on his palms. I lifted my hand closer to my face, wanting a better look at the ring (correction, _my_ ring) and I smiled at the warm, fuzzy sensations that I felt in my chest.

"Alright, Granger," George said and I looked back to see him grinning at me. "What's your favorite color?"

"What?"

"Your favorite color," he repeated and then frowned when he saw the confused look I was giving him. "Didn't I tell you? The whole point of this date is to get to know each other better. That's the theme."

I laughed. "Our date has a 'theme'?"

He nodded. "Favorite color?"

"Okay. Pink. Not hot pink or bubble gum pink, just a soft, rosy pink."

He raised an eyebrow. "Pink?"

"Yes...." I placed my hands on my hips. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

George shrugged. "You just don't seem like a _pink_ girl to me. It's so..."

"Soft and feminine?" I offered when he seemed to struggle for the right description.

"Well, yeah," he said, nodding thoughtfully.

"And I'm _not_?" I asked, my voice making it clear that I was rather insulted.

He laughed. "That's not at all what I meant. I believe you possess just the right amount of femininity and," he paused bringing one of his hands forward so that he could lazily drag a finger down my bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps, "you'recertainly very soft." He winked at me and then returned his hand to rest on the blanket behind him. "I was just surprised, is all. But, see, that's the whole point of this little game: to learn things about each other."

"Alright, so what is _your_ favorite color?" I asked, trying not to focus on the way my arm was still tingling.

"Crimson," he answered immediately. "Fred and I always knew we'd be in Gryffindor, but I'll never forget the first time I put on that crimson and gold tie. Definitely one of the proudest moments of my life. Now," he said and then paused as he shifted his position, leaning forward again and bringing his arms to his lap to give them a rest. "Your turn to ask a question."

"Oh. Okay. Umm." I sat in silence for a while, trying to think of something. "Oh!" I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, which I'd been snacking on before supper, and dumped several candies into the palm of my hand which I then extended towards George. "What's your favorite?"

"Orange," he said, and then grabbed my hand and brought it closer to his face so that he could carefully inspect the candies. "Which, unfortunately, looks very similar to the carrot flavored beans. Not that I have anything against carrots, mind you, but if I'm eating a sweet, I don't particularly want it to taste like a vegetable. Ah-ha." He picked up a small orange candy and held it close to his eye, ensuring that it was indeed the correct flavor before he popped it into his mouth and began to chew it, slowly and happily.

"Orange." I shook my head, smiling to myself.

George gave me an odd look. "Is that funny for some reason?"

"No. It's just... it's cute."

"Cute," George repeated, staring at me like he thought I may have lost my mind.

"They match your hair," I mumbled, a little embarrassed. It sounded a bit silly when I said it out loud, but the bright smile that stretched across George's face comforted me.

"So what's your favorite?" he asked.

I ran a finger over the pile of candies, sorting through them until I found a light brown one. "Chocolate mousse," I said, bringing the candy to my mouth and biting into it. I immediately spit it back out. "Which is _not_ what this is!" I tossed the offending mud-flavored candy into the grass, while George laughed at the disgusted expression on my face.

He grabbed another candy from my hand and held it out to me. "Here. Strawberry ice-cream. It should get the taste out of your mouth. _And_ it's your favorite color."

I smiled at him and accepted the little, light pink candy, and ate it, thankful that it was, indeed, strawberry ice-cream flavored, and then I returned the rest of the candies to the box and slid it back into my pocket.

"Alright." George rubbed his hands together in excited anticipation. "Tell me something that you've never told _anyone_ else."

I winced. "Isn't... isn't that a bit personal?"

"Of course it is!" George said, laughing. "We're getting _married_ in ten days, Hermione. Things are about to get a whole lot more _personal_ between us."

I tried not to think about what he meant by that last statement. What caught me most off guard was the "ten days" part. Wow. I knew that we'd decided to get married the Saturday following Fred's wedding to "Millicent" but I hadn't realized how quickly the time was passing. Ten days until I would be Mrs. George Weasley...

"I'm waiting, Granger," George said, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Fine. Okay, when I was in muggle school, before I was accepted to Hogwarts..."

"Yes?" George leaned towards me, completely interested in hearing what I had to say.

"Well, there was this one time, we had a really important assignment due, and somehow I'd completely forgotten about it..." I paused, took a breath, and then sped through the rest of my story, "I stole another boy's paper and put my name on it because I knew he was almost as smart as I was and I knew he'd get good marks. I got credit for it and, because I'd always been such a good student, the teacher wouldn't believe the boy when he accused me of taking his paper." I stared up at George, wondering if my faced looked as guilty as I felt. I'd always felt bad for what I'd done.

George was just shaking his head, making a _tsk-tsk_ sound. "Pathetic," he said, and smiled when I shot him an angry look. "I wanted you to tell me something meaningful, something scandalous, or at the very least, something embarrassing. I wanted something _real_, Hermione."

"That was real!" I protested.

He let out an exaggerated sigh. "Let me show you how it's done." He cleared his throat and sat up straight like he was preparing to deliver an important speech. "Alright. It's no secret that Fred and I slept in the same bed for the majority of our childhood, yeah?" I didn't know that, and he must have realized that when he saw my curious expression, so he paused to explain. "When Bill and Charlie were still living at home, there wasn't enough space for all the Weasleys to have their own beds. Naturally, being twins, Fred and I were the ones who ended up bunking together."

"Oh."

Now that I was caught up, he nodded and then continued. "But, the thing that nobody knows, is that we got really homesick when we first left for Hogwarts, and we slept together _every_ night for the first two weeks."

I smiled as I thought about what he was saying. Fred and George were always so confident, I never would have imagined either of them being the slightest bit nervous about their first few weeks away from home. "You were still boys, and you were nervous," I said, wondering why this secret was embarrassing enough that he'd kept it to himself. "You were only eleven years old."

"Ah," George said and then laughed. "But we were _sixteen_ years old when I broke up with Katie Bell, and I slept in Fred's bed that night, as well. We were caught that time, though. Lee Jordan saw us both getting out of Fred's bed the next morning." George suddenly laughed again, much louder this time, actually doubling over and holding his stomach until the laughter subsided. "Oh, the look on his face was priceless." He wiped a happy tear from his eye, grinning widely. "So, there you have it. I, George Weasley, still sleep with my twin when I'm scared or hurt."

I was smirking, highly amused (and slightly touched) by his confession, but then a thought occurred to me. "George? If you're ever scared or hurt when we're married, you are more than welcome to go find Fred for comfort, but you have another thing coming if you think I'm going to sleep in one bed with the two of you."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," George said, laughing again. "So, Granger, I expect you to come up with a better answer to that question but, we'll move on for now. So, your turn. Next question."

I stared down, pulling at a loose thread dangling from the hem of my jeans. I did have a question in mind, something I'd been thinking about since I saw Katie Bell flirting with George at Ron's wedding the week before, and I'd been reminded of it when George mentioned her name just a moment earlier. One tends to hear a lot of rumors in the Gryffindor common room, but I wanted to hear it for myself. I just wasn't sure how to ask.

"George?" I said, my voice soft and unsteady.

"Hmm?"

"I was j-just wondering... are you a... a...?" The last word got stuck in my throat, and it wasn't helping that George's grin was widening and becoming more wicked looking by the second.

"Am I a what?"

I cleared my throat and tried again. "What I meant to say was, have you ever...?"

"Have I ever _what_, Hermione?" he asked, lowering his voice and leaning towards me. I tried to look at the ground but he just repositioned himself so that I had no choice but to look at his face. In the darkness of the night, his blue irises were almost completed consumed by his wide, black pupils, but his eyes were sparkling with anticipation as he waited for my answer.

I sighed. "Are you really going to make me say it?"

"Afraid so," he said, nodding.

"_Why_?" I knew I sounded whiney but I didn't really care. Couldn't George see that I was way out of my comfort zone?

"Because. This is important and we need to talk about it, and I refuse to let you feel awkward." When I shifted my gaze to look as far away from him as I could, and I still didn't say anything, he sighed softly. "What are you so worried about, Hermione? It's just me." He reached out and gently tilted my chin up, only letting go when I made eye contact again. "Please don't be scared of me." It was maddening the way he could go from being so bold and cocky to sweet and sensitive in just a matter of seconds.

I chewed on my lower lip for a second before speaking. "Alright. I'm sure I already know the answer but..." I took a deep breath and tightly shut my eyes, "have you ever had sex?" I slowly opened my eyes again, first one and then the other, and was relieved to see George still sitting there, smiling warmly, but not laughing.

"Yes."

There was a slight, painful catch in my chest, though I wasn't exactly sure why. "How many girls?" I paused before adding, "If you don't mind me asking, of course..."

"Two. And you can ask me anything."

Two. Honestly, that was way less than what I'd expected, considering that practically every girl in the house of Gryffindor would swoon if George or Fred so much as _looked_ at them. "Katie Bell?"

He nodded. "But I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I don't remember the other girl's name."

I didn't mean to, but I gasped. "You had sex with someone and you don't even remember her?"

He winced at my reaction. "Fred and I went to the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate our first day at the shop. We just thought we'd have a few drinks and then head home, you know, but we met these two girls. We were already too drunk to catch their names and after a few more drinks, one thing led to another, and..." he trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks for myself. "That was the first, last, and only time we saw them."

I didn't know the correct way to respond. I was relieved that his number of sexual relationships was less than I'd assumed, but I was still hurting. So, _why_? _You're jealous_, a tiny voice in my mind said. Was that right? Was I really jealous? I thought of the nameless, faceless girl, drunk and naked and tangled up with George. I thought about this stranger who knew _nothing_ about George, but was still allowed to know him in the most intimate way imaginable. I thought about George, sneaking around Hogwarts to sleep with Katie... I thought back to the times I'd seen them sitting together, smiling and whispering to each other. I hadn't thought much of it then, but now I was suddenly sure that I didn't want to know what they'd been discussing. Then another thought crossed my mind. Had George ever sat in the common room or in the great hall and teased me or pranked me right after _being with_ Katie? It made me sick to my stomach to think about.

"Hermione?" George was watching me carefully, a concerned expression on his face.

"Yes?" I said, my voice a bit too cheerful for what I was feeling.

He frowned. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what you're really thinking. Just be honest. I can take it."

"It's... I'm fine." I forced out an uneasy laugh. "I honestly thought you'd tell me you'd slept with fifty girls or something ridiculous like that. So, you see, I'm relieved." I laughed again, but my true emotions betrayed me and the sound came out as a half laugh, half sob which I quickly silenced by pressing the back of my hand to my mouth.

George grabbed my other hand in both of his, gently rubbing it with his thumbs. "It's okay if you're angry, or disappointed, or if you're jeal--"

"I am not jealous!" I snapped. I was, of course. I knew I was. But I was far too proud and stubborn to admit it.

"Okay," George said, and I could hear the pain in his quiet voice.

Truth be told, I didn't understand why it hurt so much, or why I felt angry with George. It's not as if he could undo the past. _Unless you can find another time turner, that is_, the voice in my mind said and a small snort of laughter escaped me. George looked up at me, and I felt my heart soften at the sorrowful expression in his eyes. I gave him a weak smile. "It doesn't feel good to think of you with someone else." He squeezed my hand. "So, I suppose I might be just a _little_ jealous..."

George just stared at me a while, obviously contemplating his words before he spoke again. "Would you be angry with me if I said I'm relieved that you're a little jealous?" A smile crept over his face as he stared at my confused expression. "That means that, not only do you want me, but you want me all to yourself," he said, finishing with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. And just like that, he was back to bold and cocky.

"George..."

"Oh, come on, Hermione." He gently bumped his shoulder against mine in an attempt to lighten the mood. "At this point, I think it's a bit silly to pretend we're not attracted to each other. Especially after you tried to throw yourself at me the other night." He winked.

"That was only thanks to that stupid candy. You said it yourself that we both knew I'd never normally do something like that."

"Mm," George said, nodding. "But I also said that the sweets only intensify what you _already_ feel. And what about the way you react to me the rest of the time?"

"I don't know what you mean," I said, my voice casual even though I could feel my body tensing.

"Perhaps I should remind you, then," George said, grinning as he leaned towards me. "If you aren't attracted to me," he said, reaching out to brush my hair over my shoulder, exposing the side of my face, my ear, and my throat, "then why do you blush when I get too close?" I didn't know that he could see me that well in the dark, but the heat in my cheeks suggested that I was, indeed, blushing. George placed two fingers against the side of my neck and then slowly trailed a path upwards, stopping at an extremely sensitive place right below my jaw, and the pressure of his fingertips against that point caused a slight hitch in my breath. George chuckled before asking, "And why is your heart pounding?"

Slowly, he moved his fingers, bringing them around to gently grasp my chin, and he turned my face until I was staring directly into his eyes. Everything was so quiet, his gaze so intense, and I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth, biting on it nervously. The subtle movement drew George's attention, and as he stared at my mouth, the tip of his tongue appeared, moistening his lips.

"My turn to ask a question," he said, and when I looked up into his eyes again, he was watching me carefully, not even the slightest trace of playfulness on his face. I looked back and forth between his eyes, seeing a new emotion in them, something I couldn't quite read. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

It's amazing how such a simple question can produce the most incredible responses. Those seven little words, spoken in a voice that I'd heard thousands of times over the years, and suddenly, my stomach was doing summersaults, and my heart was pounding out an even louder rhythm in my chest. I felt terrified and completely exhilarated. I nodded.

George tilted his head just a bit, and with one hand still holding my chin and the other working it's way into my hair, he slowly brought his face closer to mine, leaning in until, at last, our lips met. His mouth was soft and warm as he moved his lips gently against mine, and he tasted sweet, like the orange flavored candy he'd eaten earlier. The first kiss ended, the satisfying sound of our lips releasing each other hung in the air around us and I let out a contended sigh, bringing my hands up to run my fingers through George's shaggy, ginger hair. I felt him smile briefly against my lips before he swooped down, claiming my mouth for another kiss, and after just a few seconds, I felt his lips part. My pulse quickened but I gathered my courage and parted my lips, giving him permission to deepen the kiss, and my fingers began to buzz with electricity as I anticipated how it would feel to have his tongue against mine...

But then I heard the sound of leaves crunching and twigs snapping somewhere just to our right, and we were both jerked from our momentary bliss as we realized that someone was running through the woods. George was on his feet first, his wand clutched in his right hand, and I was up just a second later and we both began to move towards the sound.

"Wait," George said, barely breathing the word, and holding up a hand to keep me from moving forward. The footsteps had stopped, but now there were new sounds - voices_ -_ hushed and... giggling? "_Lumos maxima_," George whispered, the tip of his wand lighting up brilliantly, and then he flicked his wrist, sending a ball of blue light flying through the woods. I gasped when two figures came into view: a girl, with long, beautiful red-hair, pinned against a tree as she was being snogged by a dark-haired boy. I didn't need to see his face to know that he had black-rimmed glasses and a lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

"_Oi!_" George shouted, causing Ginny to shriek and Harry to back away from her so quickly that he almost fell. "What the _bloody_ hell do you two think you're doing?" George sounded furious, so I clamped a hand over my mouth as I was trying my hardest not to laugh.

Ginny stomped her foot and let out a huff of air, obviously relieved that it was only George who'd discovered them, but also clearly annoyed to have been interrupted. She stuck her tongue out at her brother and then grabbed Harry by the hand, dragging him deeper into the woods. Harry, who looked embarrassed and more than a little afraid of the angry twin, shrugged apologetically at George.

"Unless you want to be remembered as _the-boy-who-was-dismembered-by-George-Weasley_, I suggest you watch where you're putting your hands, Potter!" George called after them. When he turned back around, he was shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. "That is something I could have gone my entire life without witnessing," he said, but when he looked up and saw me, still trying to contain my laughter, he narrowed his eyes and stalked towards me. He tucked his wand back into his pocket before raising an accusing finger to point at me. "You _knew _about this, didn't you? You knew that Harry Potter and my baby sister were sneaking out of the house to snog!"

My eyes widened as he got closer, and I quickly shook my head.

He tilted his head to one side, studying my face. "_Hermione_..." he said in a way that meant he didn't believe me a bit, and then he grinned. "You're such a terrible liar."

I gently swatted his arm. "You do realize I take that as a compliment, right?"

George shook his head at me in disbelief, but I just rolled my eyes.

"Come on," he said, reaching out for my hand, "It's getting late." I smiled, placing my hand in his and he apparated us back to a spot just outside the burrow's door.

"Do you want to come in with me?" I asked, fidgeting with my hands. "We could have some tea or something."

"Hmm." He smirked and shoved his hands into his pockets, bouncing slightly on his feet. "It's quite odd to have a girl invite me inside for tea in the house that I grew up in."

I laughed. "Oh. Right."

"But, as much as I would love to, I really can't. Have to open the shop bright and early in the morning and Fred and I are still trying to finish up a last few details of _the plan_. So you may not see me tomorrow." I frowned at his words, and he quickly added, "but you'll be by the flat sometime Friday night so we can get everything ready for Saturday, yeah?"

"Yeah. Right," I said, forcing myself to smile again and hoping that he couldn't see that I was disappointed that he was leaving and that I might not see him the next day. "I'll be there Friday night."

"You know," George said, slowly moving closer to me, "call me crazy but I actually get the feeling that you're going to miss me."

I rolled my eyes. "As much as you'll miss me, I'm sure."

"Hmm." He seemed to consider that for a second. "Quite a lot, then." He grinned but before I could respond, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of my mouth. "Night, Granger," he said, winking at me once before disapparating.

I was sad to see him go, but I was glad he wasn't there to see my silly grin, or to see the way I held a hand to the place where he'd just kissed me. "Goodnight, George," I said to the darkness and then made my way back inside.

* * *

**Thanks again for the reviews! They make me SO happy! And to those of you who have asked if reviewing and flattering me will lead to faster updates, the answer is: YES! Ha. But, seriously, I work on this story everyday and I do put a lot of thought and effort into it, so I'm not going to write something random just to have something to post, but your reviews DEFINITELY get me motivated to work faster!**

**And, I accept anon. reviews, so even if you don't have an account, feel free to chime in just to let me know if you're enjoying the story! :)**

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. It's my favorite so far. The first kiss is always my favorite part of any love story, but I also liked writing the scenes of George opening up to Hermione. I'd love some honest feedback about that part (when he was thanking her for saving Fred and telling her that he would love her if she'd let him). Did it seem rushed? Could you feel the emotion in the words or did it fall flat? Again, I ask because I'm also working on some original novels and your input would be greatly valued. I love emotional angst and I love romance but there's a really, really fine line between romance and cheesiness (and I loathe cheesiness). So.. I'm interested in what you thought of those parts! Criticism is welcome as long as it's polite :)**

**I've said it before and I'll say it again, you guys are awesome!! :)**


	10. Chap9 Ice Cream, the Dream, & the Scheme

**Sorry, again, for the delay. At least the wait is over now. I hope you like the chapter enough to make it worth it :)**

**I had a couple of people wondering why George didn't ask Hermione about her past sexual experiences, so I wanted to explain myself really quickly. I originally had planned for George to ask while they were on the subject, but the conversation just kept going in a different direction. (That happens a lot! Those silly characters don't always want to say what I want them to say! :)) But, have no fear! George has made it pretty clear that he feels it's an important topic, so I wouldn't let him not bring it up again ;)**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

**Oh. And there is a bit of fluff in here, but it is dedicated to _Phoenix Phlames_ who expressed a particular interest in the "wicked" dream that George had about Hermione. I tried to stay within my comfort zone, so I hope I was able to do it justice. :P**

**I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. Please don't sue me.**

**And, again, please forgive any typos you come across.**

* * *

The next morning, I rolled over in bed, stretching and yawning as I opened my eyes to greet the new day, and even though I couldn't remember any of my dreams from the previous night, I felt a subdued giddiness in my heart the way one typically does after dreaming something particularly pleasing. Then I smiled, raising one hand and pressing my fingertips to my lips as I realized my happiness had nothing to do with a dream. George had kissed me. He had kissed me and it had been soft and sweet and exciting and every other wonderful adjective I could possibly think of, and even though it was untimely interrupted, it had definitely been the best kiss of my life.

Viktor Krum's kisses had been polite and gentlemanly, enjoyable enough but lacking in passion on both his side and mine. Ron's kisses were certainly passionate, and they were special because I cared so much about him, but they were also rushed and, if I was being perfectly honest, just a bit sloppy... But George's kiss? Tender. Intense. Controlled. Passionate. In other words? Simply perfect. I closed my eyes, letting out a long, dreamy sigh, and completely missed the sound of the bedroom door opening. I did, however, clearly hear the giggles coming from a certain red-head just before she flung herself onto my bed.

"Spill it!" Ginny said, propping herself up on her elbows to look at me.

"Spill what?" I tried to sound annoyed with her, but I just couldn't stop smiling.

"I know that George took you on a date and that he gave you Nana's ring--mum told me this morning--" she paused to explain when I gave her a curious look, "but I want to know what else happened and why you look so sickeningly happy right now!" Ginny was laughing but then she quickly made a face like she'd eaten something bad. "Unless the two of you shagged, in which case I don't want to know a thing! No offense, but George is my brother and I really don't need that image of him in my head..."

"Ginny! Of course we didn't!"

She grinned. "Okay then, tell me!"

I groaned, but was actually quite excited to have someone to confide in. "It was just... really sweet. He set off fireworks, gave me the ring, and then we talked for a while and got to know each other better."

"And?" Ginny said, emphasizing and drawing out the word like she knew there was more to the story.

"And," I paused, trying to remain calm and composed even though my stomach was flipping as I thought about it again. "We kissed."

Ginny squealed and jumped up from the bed, running towards the open door. "Mum, come here!"

"Ginny!" I hissed, quickly sitting up. "What are you doing!?" She smiled but before she could answer, Mrs. Weasley appeared in the doorway, looking a bit frightened by her daughter's shouts.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, looking back and forth between Ginny and myself.

Ginny shook her head. "George and Hermione kissed last night!" She was clapping her hands together in excitement and I seriously considered hiding under my blanket.

"Ginny..." Mrs. Weasley shook her head at her daughter, gently admonishing her. "You're embarrassing her." Still, when Mrs. Weasley turned to me, there was a rather large smile on her face, showing just how delighted she was over the news. "Can I see the ring?" she asked, walking towards me. I held out my left hand and she pulled it into hers. "It looks beautiful on you, dear. I knew it would. That ring never looked right on me but it's just perfect on your dainty, little hand." Her eyes were misty with tears and she suddenly let out a loud, bubbly laugh when she realized how emotional she was becoming.

"You know," said Ginny who had also walked over to examine the ring, "we really need to get you a wedding dress, Hermione."

I nodded my head. Thanks to the wonders of magic, witch-seamstresses could complete alterations and modifications in a matter of hours, but seeing as how I didn't even have a dress and I only had nine days to go until my wedding, I was pushing my luck. "We need to get your maid-of-honor dress, as well," I said, grinning at Ginny.

"_And_ we need to order George and Fred's tuxes," Mrs. Weasley added.

I frowned slightly. "Shouldn't we get George's input on that?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at me like I'd just made the silliest suggestion ever. "These things are much better left for the women to decide and I'm sure George would agree. Besides, if we left it to those two, there's no telling what they'd show up in!"

I winced as I thought about the twins' horribly bright, magenta work robes, and the green, dragon-skin jackets that they were particularly fond of wearing. "Good point."

"Well, that settles it then," Mrs. Weasley said, patting the back of my hand before walking towards the door. "Get your shower, I'll fix you girls some breakfast, and then we'll head off to Diagon Alley for some shopping."

*****

Several hours and about 10 stores later, I'd found the perfect wedding gown, a beautiful dress for Ginny, and we'd placed an order for two very handsome tuxedos for George and Fred. After a late lunch, Mrs. Weasley returned to the burrow, leaving Ginny and I alone to leisurely explore the shops.

"Want some ice-cream?" she asked as we passed the newly reopened Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlor. "It would be a great excuse to see George," she added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

I shook my head at how absurd she was being (and had been ever since finding out about the kiss), but I had to admit, I was a bit curious... "And how, exactly, would getting ice-cream give us an excuse to see George?"

"_Because_," she said like the answer was so obvious that I shouldn't have to ask, "we'd get some for us and some to take to Fred and George!" She jerked her head in the direction of the twins' shop just around the corner. "They love ice-cream and they always get mad whenever they find out I've been here and didn't get anything for them." She was grinning widely now, obviously thinking that I would jump at the chance to see George again, and apparently, she was right. Without saying anything, I grabbed Ginny by the wrist and dragged her inside Fortescue's, choosing to ignore the fact that she was laughing at me.

*****

"And to what do we owe this honor, ladies?" Fred asked, smiling as Ginny and I approached the place where he was standing behind the sales counter. "Oh, and what's _this_?" Like an excited child, he eyed the four ice-cream cones that Ginny and I were holding. Ginny held one of the cones out to her brother and he happily accepted it, immediately drawing it into his mouth. "Verity," he said, turning to the girl beside him, "would you be so kind as to watch the register for a moment?" When she nodded, Fred walked around the counter and stuck his head through a door at the back wall, which I assumed led to the storage area of the shop. "Oi, George! Come look what I've found!"

When several seconds had passed and George did not emerge, Fred rolled his eyes and then opened the door again, but this time he held it open and motioned Ginny and me through it. The room inside was wide and spacious, the walls lined with shelves upon shelves of potions and powders and trinkets, and there were several large tables positioned around the room, holding what appeared to be a variety of gadgets and vials and bubbling cauldrons; inventions in all various stages of development. It was, clearly, the room where the twins did all of their inventing and testing.

"_Geor-gie_," Fred said in a silly, sing-song voice as he approached his twin whom I could now see, hunched over a nearby table with his back to us.

"I'm in the middle of something, _Fredd-ie_." George used the same, silly tone when he said his twin's pet name but he didn't turn around.

"Oh, fine," Fred said with an exaggerated sigh. "I guess I'll just have to turn away the very pretty girl who was kind enough to bring you a cone of your favorite Snazzy Razzy Swirl ice-cream."

I saw George's shoulders tense up but he still didn't look back. "You know, one would think that being engaged would mean a decrease in the number of girls coming on to us." My mouth hung open slightly, and I immediately closed it again, angrily clenching my jaw.

"Yes, well," Fred began, speaking in a serious tone even though he was smiling at Ginny and me, "you're just going to have to accept it, Forge, we're just too desirable for our own good." I looked over just in time to see Ginny, who was still working on her ice-cream, roll her eyes and shake her head at her brother's comment.

George, however, was obviously amused, rewarding his twin's remark with a snort of laughter. "Nonetheless, would you kindly tell her that I'm flattered but not interested?"

"Sure thing." Fred turned on his heel so that he was directly facing me, a wide grin on his face. "I'm sorry, Hermione. George is flattered but he just isn't interested."

George's head immediately whipped around at the sound of my name, and upon seeing me, a smile to rival that of his twin's settled on his lips. "Hey," he said, hopping down from the stool he'd been sitting on. He was wearing a nice brown suit, though the jacket had been removed to reveal a dark green button up shirt, an even darker green vest, and a purple tie, on which was pinned a small, golden W. As he approached, with his long, confident stride, he ran a hand through his hair, letting the long red locks sweep across his forehead in a perfectly disheveled way.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound casual even though my mouth suddenly felt dry and my knees felt a little weak. I knew the twins were attractive but had George always been _that_ gorgeous? I shook my head, trying to stop staring, and held one of the ice-cream cones out for him.

"Thanks," he said, taking it and, like his twin had done just moments earlier, immediately bringing it to his mouth. He took a bite and swallowed, turning his attention to his sister. "Thanks, Gin." She shrugged her shoulders but stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his midsection for a quick hug.

Finally, I started on my own cone, thankful that Fortescue's ice-cream was enchanted to not melt. My teeth were too sensitive to bite into something so cold, so instead, I lifted the frozen treat to my lips and opened my mouth, running my tongue up the side of the chocolate ice-cream before pulling just a little off the top into my mouth. I was busy studying the contents displayed on the nearest table, so my side was facing George, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Fred moving towards his twin, casually slinging an arm around his shoulder. He inclined his head towards George's and said something, speaking so quietly that I was sure he hadn't meant for me to hear, but I did.

"You're not breathing, mate," he said.

I looked over then, only to find both twins staring at me, though they were wearing vastly contrasting expressions. Fred was smiling, incredibly entertained by something, but George, roughly biting on his bottom lip and wincing slightly, looked more than a bit uncomfortable.

I pulled away from my ice-cream, and shot them a confused look, licking my lips before I spoke. "What?" Fred started laughing and George shook his head, raising a hand and using it to cover his mouth as he tried unsuccessfully to hide the grin that was slowly creeping over his face. Ginny was wandering around on the opposite side of the room, not paying attention to any of us. "_What_?" I said again, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, afraid that I had chocolate ice-cream smeared on my face or something.

"You wanted to know what you and George were doing in that dream?" Fred asked, laughing even harder when George turned to give him a menacing glare.

I looked at my ice-cream, and then at George who was watching me again, though he was now a bright shade of red, and I suddenly understood. "Oh-OH." I turned away, blushing furiously, and levitated my unfinished ice-cream cone to the nearest rubbish bin, far too embarrassed to eat any more.

"You were _not_ supposed to repeat that," I heard George mumbling to Fred.

"I didn't," Fred responded in an indignant tone. "Our Hermione is just exceptionally smart and was able to figure it out. If I was to repeat it, I'd just come right out and say that you had a dream about Hermione giv--mmmpphh--"

I turned back around, choking back a laugh when I saw George with one hand firmly clamped over his twin's mouth. "You'll have to forgive my brother. He seems to have forgotten his manners, _and_," he paused to fix Fred with a very pointed stare, "he seems to have forgotten that our baby sister is standing just over there."

Fred nodded his head and held up his hands in sign of surrender, so George removed his hand.

"I need some help out here!" came the sound of Verity's voice and we all turned to the door to see her standing there, looking wide-eyed and panicked. "Some rotten kid thought it would be funny to try out the _engorgio_ spell in our magical beasts department and now we have gigantic pygmy puffs running around the shop!" She disappeared again and Fred and George exchanged glances before they both started laughing.

"This should be fun," Fred said, drawing his wand before heading towards the door.

George followed but stopped when he reached me, gently placing a hand on my arm. "You alright, Hermione?" he asked, his weak smile making it clear that he was still embarrassed.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright."

"You're sure? I don't want this to make you feel uncomfortable. It was just a dream and I know that we're getting married now but I honestly don't expect anything from you and I'd certainly never want you to do anything you weren't completely comfortable with. I only told Fred because he threatened to tell you about the dream himself and I knew that he really would do it and that whatever he came up with would probably be _much_ more offensive than that and--" George suddenly stopped himself, frowning as he stared me directly in the eyes. "Am I really rambling?"

I nodded, so amused that I didn't even feel embarrassed anymore. Never, in all my years of knowing them, had I _ever_ seen either of the twins resort to nervous rambling.

"What are you doing to me, Granger?" he said, shaking his head, though he was now sporting a much more relaxed smile.

"Oi!" The door was opened and Fred was poking his head inside. He smiled when he saw us. "Kiss her already and then come help me with these bloody pygmy puffs before they destroy our shop!"

George laughed and then turned his attention back to me. "You heard the man." He grinned and then leaned forward, bending slightly to compensate for our height differences, and he pressed his lips to mine in a sweet, but all-too-brief kiss which set off what felt like a thousand butterflies in my stomach. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he whispered and I nodded as he stood up straight and gently kissed the top of my head before leaving to join his twin.

I stared after him until he disappeared through the door, and I only noticed that Ginny was standing right behind me when she spoke. "Wow."

I turned around, finding her watching me with a shocked expression. "What?"

"I saw that kiss," she said, flashing me a warm smile. "You two almost look like a real couple." She paused for a minute, her eyes suddenly glinting with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "And what did he mean by _'I'll see you tomorrow night_'?" she asked, her voice deep and mockingly seductive as she quoted her brother, and we both started laughing.

*****

It was Friday night and Ginny was already in her bed, lying on her side and watching me as I pulled on a pair of shoes and prepared to apparate to the twins' flat.

"I expect you home by midnight, young lady," she jokingly scolded, giving me a sleepy smile before flipping onto her stomach. "Just promise you won't give me any details."

I grabbed the pillow from my bed and smacked her with it but she just giggled. Since the previous afternoon when she'd overheard George and I confirming our plans to meet, Ginny had teased me mercilessly, convinced that I was sneaking out to snog him. Not that I'd done much to correct her, really. I didn't enjoy misleading her but I also couldn't tell her the truth - that I was meeting both twins so that we could go over the final details for Fred's wedding to "Millicent" which was taking place the next evening.

"Night, Ginny," I said, moving to the center of the room.

"Have fun!" She called in a teasing voice and I could still hear her laughter echoing in my ears as I disapparated.

Just a moment later, I was standing in the living-room of the twins' flat. I was immediately greeted by the sight of George, sprawled out on the couch, wearing a dark blue t-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants, one arm tucked behind his head, the other hanging limply off the edge of the sofa, and his long legs bent slightly in order to fit. He was fast asleep. I smiled to myself, wondering if he was always such a heavy sleeper, (I knew from first hand experience that it was practically _impossible_ to sleep through the sound of someone apparating into the same room) or if he was just especially tired that evening, but, either way, he didn't stir and I didn't want to disturb him. I knew that Fred was supposed to be at Millicent's, collecting a "sample" to add to the polyjuice potion, and so, as quietly as I could, I made my way to one of the chairs and lowered myself into it, content to watch George sleeping while we waited for Fred to return.

George's chest was rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm, and I could just barely hear the air entering and exiting his lungs as he breathed. He made a soft, whimpering noise in his sleep, and I smiled again. But then I heard him murmur a sad-sounding "no" as his entire body gave a slight jerk.

I immediately abandoned the chair and, since there was no room for me on the couch, I knelt on my knees on the floor beside George's head and I reached up, brushing the hair away from his forehead which was now slightly damp with sweat.

"George," I called out gently, hoping to wake him from his nightmare.

His body trembled and he gave a low, distressed moan. His voice was so quiet, so thick and strangled with desperate emotion, but I clearly heard two words as he pleaded with someone in his dream. "Don't leave."

"It's okay, George," I whispered, unable to properly speak over the painful lump in my throat. "It's just a dream," I said, though I knew it was a lie. I knew that he was dreaming of Fred, of his death, and that had been a _very_ real experience. I continued running my fingers through George's hair, whispering to him until his body finally stilled and grew quiet. I watched as his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks for a moment before his eyes slowly opened. His gaze eventually settled on me, and he tilted his head back in an attempt to see me better, blinking several times as his eyes adjusted.

"Hermione?" he said, his voice rough from sleep.

"You were having a bad dream," I said, still dragging my fingers through his red locks.

He brought a hand up to rub at his eyes. "Was I?"

I studied his face, not trying to mask the concern that I felt for him. "You don't remember it?"

He was silent for a moment as he thought. "No." He took a deep breath and held it for a second before slowly letting the air out of his lungs. "But I'm sure it's the same as every other dream I have these days." George gave me a sad smile which I returned with one of my own. His face relaxed as he took in another deep breath, and he allowed his eyes to drift shut again as my fingers continued to comb through his hair, across his forehead and over the place where his right ear used to be, down to the spot where his hair rested against his neck, before reaching up and traveling that same path again.

"You know," he said, opening his eyes again as a soft but happy smile settled on his lips, "minus the whole nightmare bit, this is actually quite a splendid way to wake up." I stilled my hand, blushing slightly, and George chuckled to himself.

"Sor--" I began to apologize but was cut off by a loud pop.

I dropped my hand as Fred apparated into the room, and George and I watched as he shrugged off his jacket, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor as he began making his way towards the back of the flat, without a glance or a word to either of us. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks, and then reached down to tug at his t-shirt, yanking it up and over his head before discarding it to the floor.

George sat up, his gaze following his twin's movements. "Fred?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Shower," was all Fred said in reply and George and I watched as he continued away from us, now only clad in a pair of jeans. Then I heard the sound of a zipper being undone and I let out a surprised shriek, immediately bringing my hands up to cover my eyes.

"Oi, Fred!" I could hear George laughing but I didn't dare remove my hands to look at him. "Think you could wait until you're actually _in_ the bathroom to do that? You're going to give poor Granger a heart-attack."

I heard Fred say, "What?" in a sincerely confused tone before adding, "Oh. Sorry."

I felt someone gently prying my hands away. "It's okay. He's decent-ish," George said, still laughing. I let my hands fall from my face but I still didn't look in Fred's direction, though I could see out of the corner of my eye that his pants were still in place.

"Did you get the sample, then?" George asked his twin. Interested in the turn of conversation, I looked at Fred now, waiting for his response.

He nodded but when George opened his mouth to say something else, Fred held up a hand to silence him. "Shower first, talk later," he said and then turned and made his way to the bathroom in the back of the flat. The sound of running water could be heard just a minute later.

George reached past me to grab his wand which was lying on the coffee table and with a lazy flick of his wrist, the loose articles of Fred's clothing gathered and folded themselves into a neat pile against the furthest wall.

George placed his wand on the table again and then grinned at me, patting a spot on the couch right next to himself. I began to stand and he reached out to help me, pulling me up and spinning me around before gently tugging me backwards. I let out a tiny yelp as he wrapped an arm around my waist, his hand gripping my hip and yanking me towards him so that, when my backside finally landed on the sofa, I was snugly pressed against his side. George leaned back, making himself comfortable, but I could only stay where I was, my body rigid as I tried to adjust to reality of being snuggled up on the sofa with George Weasley. I turned my head slightly to the side so that I could see his face, and I found that he was staring at me closely, but there was still a faint smile on his lips. I guessed that he must be trying to gauge my discomfort level.

"I'll move if you tell me to," he said, already loosening the grip of his hand which was still firmly grasping my hip.

"No!" I said, but it came out much more desperately than I'd meant for it to.

George chuckled. "Relax, then," he said, letting his hand move to my shoulder, gently urging me to lean back into him. "I won't bite."

With my head now resting against the back of the couch, I turned my face towards his as he turned his towards me, and I raised a curious eyebrow at him, watching him with an expectant expression.

He raised an eyebrow, as well. "What?"

"I'm just waiting for you to finish," I said, flatly.

"What are you on about?"

"Oh, come on," I said with a dry laugh. "You said 'I won't bite' and I'm waiting for you to finish. What'll it be? I won't bite... hard? Or, I won't bite... unless you ask me to?"

A sly grin shaped itself on his lips. "Is that what you want me to say?"

I groaned in frustration, but was unable to suppress the smile that he inspired. "You're very irritating, George Weasley."

"Mm." He nodded seriously. "And yet, here you are, giving me quite a lovely smile and sitting so close to me that the only way you could be any closer is if you were actually in my lap."

It was only then that I noticed that George's thumb had made it's way beneath the hem of my shirt and was tracing small circles on the bare skin just above my hip bone, and just that small amount of skin-to-skin contact, in addition to his flirtatious words, sparked something inside of me. I felt butterflies in my stomach, something that was becoming a common occurrence in George's presence, my entire body began to feel warm, and the rate of my breathing increased. George was watching me carefully, no doubt noting the quickened rise and fall of my chest, and after several seconds spent looking back and forth between my eyes, he slowly brought his left arm around, sliding it under my thighs, lifting me and turning me before positioning me across his lap.

"Is this okay?" he asked, brushing the hair out of my face so he could see my expression.

There was an unusually tender quality to his voice, and it caused those butterflies to start flitting all about in my stomach again, and I could only nod in response to his question. George smiled and settled back against the couch once more, but this time, he held me close, cradling me against his chest, occasionally running a hand up and down my back.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" I said, softly. The faint sound of his heart beating in his chest, combined with the soothing strokes of his hand against my back, was beginning to lull me to sleep.

"Are you a virgin?"

My previously half-lidded eyes popped open. "_What_?"

"I said, _are you a virgin_?" He spoke each word clearly, enunciating each syllable, much to my embarrassment.

I could feel a heated blush creeping over my entire body. "George..." The tone of my voice indicated that I didn't want to have this discussion.

"Hermione..." The tone of _his_ voice indicated that we were having this discussion whether I wanted to or not.

I sighed. "Do you really need to ask?" I shifted against him, suddenly feeling far more uncomfortable with our close proximity than I had a few minutes earlier, but his arm tightened around me, holding me in place. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I have my suspicions," he said, very matter-of-factly, "but it would be a really bad idea for me to make assumptions about this. So, I need you to muster up some of that legendary Gryffindor courage and answer my question." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Fine. Yes, I'm a virgin."

"Okay. Thank you," George said and then fell silent, bringing his hand to my back again and resuming his long, gentle strokes.

"That's... that's it?"

He pulled back to look at me, his hand immediately stilling again. "What do you mean?"

"You're not going to tease me?"

He lowered his eyebrows and frowned. "Why on earth would I tease you about that?"

"I.. I don't know..." I paused, looking down at my hands which were folded in my lap. "Ron did."

"Yeah, well, Ron's an insensitive prat, isn't he?" His frown vanished when I smiled at his response. "Besides, he was probably only teasing you because he wanted to shag you and you said no. Am I right?"

I let out a soft snort of laughter and nodded. Just a few weeks after the war was over, Ron and I had been snogging in the shed outside the burrow, and he'd wanted to take it further. I quickly and firmly told him no because, honestly, I'd always imagined saving myself for the man who was committed enough to put a ring on my finger, and also because, married or not, my first time was _not_ happening in a storage shed.

"He asked me to sleep with him in your dad's storage shed," I said, and then clamped a hand over my mouth as I laughed at how ridiculous it was (though I'd found it far from amusing at the time.)

"Dad's storage shed," George repeated slowly and then shook his head, making a disapproving, clucking sound with his tongue.

"Ron tried to shag you in our dad's storage shed?" came the sound of Fred's voice as he made his way into the living-area (now fully dressed). He plopped down beside us on the couch and I went to remove myself from George's lap but Fred just gave me a warm smile and shook his head, implying that I stay put. Good thing too, because, when I moved, George only tightened his grip.

"Ron has so much to learn," Fred and George said together, bringing my thoughts back to the conversation.

"And you two know it all, do you?" I said, trying to laugh and trying not to think about the fact that I was discussing intimate, personal, details with Fred and George Weasley while sitting in George Weasley's lap. Both boys looked slightly affronted by my question.

"Enough to know that most girls wouldn't appreciate the suggestion of being deflowered in a _shed_--" George began.

"--where a number of relatives could walk in--" Fred continued.

"--and the only flat surfaces available are the dirty floor--"

"--the wall--"

"--a dirty table--"

"--and a work bench."

"Not exactly the picture of romance," they finished together, flashing identically charming smiles.

I opened my mouth, ready to question the importance of romance to two boys who'd had one-night-stands and couldn't even remember the girls' names, but a sudden yawn prevented me from speaking.

Fred shook a warning finger at me. "Don't you dare go to sleep, Granger. We haven't even started going over the final plans for tomorrow yet."

"Yeah, I reckon we should get on with it, Fred," George said. "So, you got the sample?"

Fred nodded, standing and making his way towards the pile of clothes he'd removed earlier. After a moment of digging through them, he returned to the couch and held out a vial containing several hairs.

I had an awful sense of deja vu. "You're certain that those aren't cat hairs?"

"I'm positive. Unless she has an _extremely_ long-haired cat which she brushes with the hair-brush that she keeps on the sink." Fred laughed and it calmed my nerves, if only just a little bit.

"Alright, Granger," George began, looking at me, "what's the first thing you do in the morning when you wake up?"

"I rush to the bathroom, pretend to vomit, and when Ginny checks on me, I tell her I'm feeling really ill and that I don't think I'll feel up to attending the wedding."

"And?" Fred prompted.

"And I tell her that I'm coming to stay at your flat for the day so I can get some much-needed, uninterrupted rest. She'll try to convince me to stay at first but she'll finally let me go when I convince her that I won't be able to rest and recuperate with all the Weasley family coming in and out of the house all day."

"And then what?" George asked, a smile beginning to form on his lips as I effortlessly rattled off my list of assignments for the big day.

"And then I come here, get the wedding dress that the two of you are providing," I paused, fixing both twins in an unhappy stare (I'd had no say in the choice of wedding gowns), "I drink some polyjuice potion, transforming myself into Millicent Bulstrode, and then the three of us will be off to the burrow for the wedding."

"Excellent," Fred said, grinning.

"Hermione Granger," George began, staring at me in awe, "the curly-haired, know-it-all bookworm, plotting and scheming with the Weasley twins." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think I've ever been more turned on in my entire life."

I rolled my eyes and gave him a playful shove, but relished in the feelings of those silly butterflies as George leaned towards me and began peppering my cheek with kisses.

* * *

**Thanks for the fantastic reviews! You guys are so stinkin' awesome! :D**


	11. Chapter 10 What Goes Up

Another long chapter :D

I hope you all enjoy!

I don't own anything. I'm just a fan. Please don't sue.

Again, please forgive me for any typos or errors. :)

* * *

Phase one of _the plan_ was a complete success. With the help of some Weasley twin Fever Fudge, and after pretending to vomit, (since I refused to ingest a Puking Pastille), I'd convinced Ginny that I was sick and needed to rest undisturbed, and I managed to get out of the burrow before anyone else was able to ask any questions.

I apparated into the living-room of the Weasley twin's flat, wearing a big grin, feeling quite pleased with myself for accomplishing my tasks, but my smile quickly vanished and my stomach sank when I realized that Fred and George were not the only ones in the room. Percy and his fiance, Penelope, were there as well and, for a moment, I was worried that I might have just put the entire plan in jeopardy with my cocky attitude. I immediately wiped the smile from my face, hoping that no one had noticed.

"Granger?" George and Fred said together, glancing at each other before turning back to look at me with very convincing expressions of surprise.

"Hey," I said, a little weakly, drawing on my amateurish acting skills and hoping that Percy and Penelope would buy my act.

"Hermione, are you okay?" George asked as he rushed to my side, perfectly playing the part of the concerned fiance. When he was close enough that only I could see his face, he winked.

I clutched his arm as soon as it was within reach. "I'm not feeling so well, actually." I turned my attention to Fred, forcing my eyes to water and forcing some emotion into my voice. "Fred, I'm so sorry. I don't think I can make it tonight and I was hoping I could stay here and try to get a little peace and quiet."

Fred, doing an equally amazing job of looking concerned, walked across the room towards me. He gently placed a hand to my forehead and then frowned so that Percy and Penelope could see. "I think you have a fever, Hermione."

"Oh, dear. You really need to rest," George said, taking hold of my elbow and steering me out of the living-room and towards the back of the flat.

"I'm so sorry, Fred," I called over my shoulder, shooting him what I hoped was a very remorseful look.

Fred responded with a sympathetic shake of his head. "No worries. Just feel better."

I nodded at him and then, just before George led me completely out of the room, I snuck one last glance at Penelope and Percy. Penelope's expression was kind and worried, but Percy? Well, he looked completely unfazed. But then, just as I turned the corner into the hallway, I saw the corners of his lips twitch as if he was fighting a smile. That was... odd.

"That was quite a show you put on in there, Granger," George whispered as he motioned me into his bedroom, shutting the door behind himself when we were inside. "And here I always thought you were a rubbish liar," he added with a smile.

I let out a sigh, relieved that George seemed confident that I'd pulled it off. "What are they doing here?"

"Percy stopped by to help Fred fill out a few last minute forms." When George noticed the strange look I was giving him, he continued, "Percy is officiating the ceremony."

"Percy?" I knew that, as a ministry employee, he was legally able to perform marriage ceremonies; I guess the thought of him doing so just never crossed my mind. But then, just like that, it clicked. _Percy_. "Percy is your 'inside man' from the ministry, isn't he?" I asked, pointing an accusing finger at George and walking towards him until he was backed up against the door and my finger was firmly poking his chest.

George dropped his chin to his chest, looking down at my finger before looking up at me again, grinning. "You have met my brother haven't you? Do you honestly think that Percy Weasley would break the law, and risk his job and his perfect reputation to help Fred and me?" As he spoke, his voice was very calm and steady, but he was still wearing a wide, knowing smile. "That's quite a ridiculous suggestion, Hermione."

"Mm-hmm." I pursed my lips together, letting George know that I wasn't convinced.

"Now," George said, reaching behind him for the doorknob, "you be a good girl and stay in here until I say you can come out." His eyes were twinkling as he spoke to me like I was an ill-behaved child, and I shot him a stern look, my nostrils flaring a bit. I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind but he interrupted me. "Even _if_ a certain ministry official in the living-room knows you're faking, a certain blonde who accompanied him does _not_ know and it doesn't need to be brought to her attention. Understood?"

I nodded, smirking at the realization that my suspicions had been correct.

George opened the door and began to walk through but turned back to me. "I know it won't be all that fun without me in it, but feel free to make yourself at home in my bed while I'm gone." He winked at me and exited the room before I had a chance to respond. I rolled my eyes at his comment, but couldn't resist the urge to smile.

I'd never been inside George's room before, so I walked around for a moment, observing everything. The room was simple, and extremely well-organized, much to my surprise. There was a desk and bookshelf against one wall, a dresser against another wall, and a small bed and bedside table against the furthest wall. I was curious to look around but, wanting to respect his privacy, I chose instead to sit on his bed and wait for him to return. Several minutes passed with no sign or sound of George, and I continued to sit, legs dangling over the edge of the mattress, swinging them back and forth, as I waited. Things had gone well so far that morning, but there was still a long day ahead of me and I was beginning to feel anxious as I thought about how it would all play out. Trying to calm my growing fears, I reached out and grabbed George's pillow and brought it to my lap, wrapping my arms around it and burying my face in it, comforting myself in it's fluffy softness. I took a deep breath and smiled. It smelled like George. It wasn't a heavy scent, just something subtle and clean and masculine. I inhaled again and then let the breath out in a happy hum.

"You know," came George's voice, and I peeked up, seeing him watching me from the doorway, "I do believe this is the first time I've ever been jealous of a pillow." I buried my face in the pillow again but George pulled it away from me just a second later and tossed it back to it's place at the head of the bed. He sat down beside me, smiling at me, but he had the good grace not to make fun of me for snuggling with his pillow, for which I was tremendously grateful. If he wasn't going to bring it up, neither was I.

"You would think," I said with a forced laugh after we'd sat in silence for several seconds, "that after all these years of being friends with Harry Potter, and after all the dangerous things we got into, I wouldn't be feeling so nervous about a wedding ceremony."

George placed a hand on my knee, which I suddenly realized had been bouncing nervously, and gently squeezed it. "Why are you nervous? You don't think we can pull this off?" His tone was soft and his words sincere but, when I glanced up from the place where his hand was resting on my leg and looked at his face, I saw that he was wearing a completely confident, totally composed smile. "Fred and I will be there; we won't let anything happen to you." George hooked his index finger under my chin and tilted my face up, turning it slightly towards his as he closed the distance between us. "I promise," he said, just before pressing his mouth against mine for a tender kiss. We pulled away slowly, and I kept my eyes shut for a while afterwards, allowing myself to revel in the comfort of his promise and the kiss he'd sealed it with.

"Careful, Georgie." The sound of Fred's voice made me open my eyes. He was standing in the doorway, watching me just as his twin had done moments before. "I know it's difficult but I need you to turn down the charm just a bit. I can't have you intoxicating Granger and making her all fuzzy-minded and unfocused." I gave Fred a displeased look, but he just winked at me. He began to say something else but was cut off by the muted crack of someone apparating into the living-room, judging by the direction the sound seemed to come from.

"Who is that?" I whispered, immediately bringing my legs up onto the bed, having no choice but to drape them over George's lap since he was in the way. I raised a hand to my forehead, noting that the fever fudge had worn off, so I gave my cheeks a quick pinch in an attempt to make myself look flushed, and laid back against the pillow, hoping that I could successfully pass as a sick person.

"Fred?" came a male voice. "George?" It was very familiar but I couldn't quite place it.

"Lee," the twins said together.

"Back here!" Fred yelled, leaning out into the hallway. "In George's room!"

I looked at George with wide eyes. "Lee Jordan?" What was he doing there? We were trying to pull off a top-secret plan and the twins kept having visitors! George responded to my panicked expression with a reassuring smile, and Lee Jordan walked into the room just a second later.

He wore a wide grin on his face as he hugged Fred, and then made his way to shake hands with George, who was still pinned to the bed by my legs. "Hey, Hermione," he said with a friendly nod in my direction.

"Hello, Lee," I replied in a weak, raspy voice. I must have over-done it because the twins were both stifling snickers and Lee's smile grew even bigger.

"You alright there, Hermione?"

I tried not to sound quite as pathetic when I answered. "I'm sick."

"Ah, I see." Again, his smile got wider. "I'm out of the country, visiting an ill aunt." The three boys exchanged mischievous, knowing, glances. "I hate that I'm going to miss your wedding, Fred." He gave the one red-head a playful nudge in the ribs and both twins laughed.

"George? Fred?" I fixed them each with a stern stare. They were keeping something from me.

Fred cleared his throat. "Millicent," he began, looking at me, "meet Diane, your dearest friend and maid-of-honor."

"What?" I said.

At the exact same time, Lee said, "_Diane_?" with a disgusted look on his face. Fred, George, and I all turned to give him an odd stare and he defensively crossed him arms over his chest. "_What_? This is the only time in my life that I plan on being a woman and I don't want to be a Diane."

"And just what name _would_ you like to go by?" George asked, not even trying to hide his amusement.

"I don't know." Lee grew silent as he considered his options. "I've always liked the name Shirley."

Fred and George both started laughing, Fred with his entire body doubled over, a hand to the wall to support himself, and George with his head bowed, clutching my legs to hold them in place as he rocked forward in his seat. "_Shirley_?" they said (or more accurately, gasped through their laughter) together.

"Yes, Shirley," Lee said, pretending to be offended even though he was clearly struggling not to laugh himself. "Take it or leave it."

Fred stood up right again, trying to control his mirth as he clapped a hand to Lee's shoulder. "Okay, Shirley Smith, then."

"Why does Millicent need a bridesmaid?" I asked, still not fully understanding when this part of the plan had been developed and why I hadn't been informed.

"Because," Fred began, "it was easy enough to convince mum and dad that Millicent's family didn't approve of the match, seeing as how the Weasleys are blood-traitors and all, and thus, wouldn't be attending, but it seemed odd for Millicent to have _no one_ present."

"Not to mention," George interjected, "that, as Fred's best man, I need someone pretty to escort down the isle." He waggled his eyebrows at Lee who good-naturedly rolled his eyes.

Fred laughed but when he spoke, he became a bit more serious again, turning the conversation back to important business. "Obviously, we couldn't use anyone who really knows Millicent, so we got a sample from a random, muggle girl, and enlisted our friend Lee to help. I don't think anyone will drill you on your relationship, but still, the two of you should come up with a simple story to stick to in case anyone asks how long you've known each other or where you met or what-have-you. Alright?"

Lee and I both nodded.

"Now," it was George's turn to chime in again, "Fred and I will stay here while the two of you take your potions, just to make sure everything goes smoothly, and we'll do our best to help you get into your dresses-" he paused long enough to cast a delighted grin at Lee who was staring darkly at Fred who was once again doubled over in a fit of laughter, "-and then Fred and I will go on to the Burrow, since we can't all show up at the same time, and you two will wait here for a few minutes before apparating together. Got it?"

Again, Lee and I nodded.

"Excellent," the twins said.

Fred grinned as he motioned for Lee to follow him out of the room. "This way, _Shirley_."

As soon as they were gone, George gently patted one of my pajama-clad calves before lifting my legs from his lap so he could stand, and then I stood up, as well. He went to his closet and disappeared inside, returning just a second later with a long, white garment bag in one hand, while carrying some other indistinguishable article of clothing in the other hand.

"Your wedding dress," he said, holding out the white bag before carefully draping it across the bed. "And, your unmentionables." His mouth was fixed in an entertained smirk as he held out a strapless bra and a pair of knickers, both nude-colored. Who knew that the twins had so much knowledge about wedding-dress-appropriate undergarments. "I bought them yesterday, washed them this morning," he added when he saw me suspiciously eyeing the flimsy items of clothing. They were both far too big to fit me, but I guessed they were just about the right size for Millicent.

"Thanks," I mumbled as I reached out to take them from him.

Fred came walking into the room, holding a large, lidded cup. "Here's your potion, Hermione." He placed it on top of the dresser and then started out the door again, carrying another cup which I assumed was for Lee.

When he was gone, George turned his attention back to me. "You need to undress," he said, with all the casualness of someone commenting on the weather.

"Wh-what?" Something like an ice-cold ball of fear lodged itself in my stomach.

"Millicent is a rather large girl and you'll ruin your clothes if you try to transform while wearing them," he explained and then paused, an enthusiastic grin settling on his lips. "And just what were you thinking I meant, Miss Granger?" He shook his head, his wide eyes feigning shock. "You naughty little minx."

I tugged at the elastic waist of my pajama pants, drawing George's attention and causing his eyes to go even wider (this time in sincere shock), but then he saw that I was reaching for my wand that was tucked there, and he laughed. I pointed my wand at him and gave him a grim smirk. "I'd like some privacy, please."

"Don't worry, love," he said, still smiling. "I'll guard the door with my life." Still making eye contact, he moved his hand to the doorknob behind him, and then he proceeded to shut the door... with himself still inside. His eyes were twinkling, daring me to react. Such a flirt. But, surely he must have forgotten who he was dealing with, because I dearly love a good challenge. I closed the small amount of distance between us and placed the tip of my wand to his chest, but he only responded by closing the door even more, until there was a soft click as it caught. So, I did the only thing I could do. Very, very_,_ slowly, I trailed a path with the tip of my wand, down the center of his chest, past the small dip of his belly button, and still I continued lower. When my wand reached the top of his trousers he let out a barely audible gasp, and I pulled the wand back so that it was no longer touching him but, all the same, the tip was pointed directly at his crotch.

"Watch it, Granger," he warned, all traces of a smile completely gone and his eyes dark as he stared at me. "Unless you'd like to explain to mum how it's your fault when we can't give her grandbabies." This thought must have amused him, though, because his lips were once again tugging up at the corners.

"_Out_, George," I said, though my voice was soft, feeling a bit amused myself, and I lowered my wand, stepping back to give him room to move.

He grabbed the doorknob again and pulled the door open. "I'll be just outside if you need any help undressing!" He called in a cheery voice, laughing at the scandalized look on my face but darting out of the room before I could lunge at him.

*******

Once my transformation from Hermione Granger to Millicent Bullstrode was complete, I slipped into what was, fortunately, a simple and modest wedding gown, and then yelled for George to come inside. He slowly peeked his head in to make sure I was decent (because, for all his flirtatious talk, he was really quite the gentleman) before entering the room with Fred right behind him.

"Ah, my blushing bride," Fred said, dramatically clasping his hands together and letting out a sigh.

I just rolled my eyes at him and turned around, displaying the back of the dress with it's long row of unfastened buttons. "I need to be buttoned up."

"Blimey, it's odd to hear your voice coming out of that mouth," George said, stepping up and beginning to work the buttons from the bottom up. Fred stepped up beside him and started working from the top down, and between the two of them, the dress was completely buttoned up in less than a minute. They had just finished and were helping me into my shoes when Lee, now fully transformed into Shirley, waltzed into the room, and Fred and George immediately erupted in laughter, clutching each other for support.

"I think I'm in love with myself," Lee said, staring down at his new body.

He was a bit shorter now and his smooth, dark skin was now a creamy ivory color. His previously black, dread-locked hair now fell past his shoulders and was a shade of honey-blonde, and all of his masculine features had been replaced by subtle, feminine curves. He was dressed in a beautiful, deep purple gown, and a pair of gold ballet flats. He was _very_ pretty.

George and Fred were reduced to happy tears, and when they finally managed to control their laughter, it was only to let loose a string of whistles and catcalls. Lee took it all in stride at first, primping his hair and even obliging us with a girlishly graceful twirl, but when Fred snaked an arm around his waist, Lee calmly informed him that he had 3 seconds to remove the offending limb or else Fred would be attending his own wedding in a wheelchair.

When everyone had settled down, we went over the plan one last time, and Lee and I gathered our cups which were filled with more than enough polyjuice potion to last us through the evening. Fred and George grabbed their tuxes, opting to get dressed at the burrow, and they were just about to apparate when George grabbed Fred's arm to prevent him from leaving.

"Wait a second," he said. "I almost forgot. Fred? Hermione?" He looked at us each in turn, ensuring that he had our complete attention before he continued. "I understand that you have to kiss, and I'm completely alright with it."

My eyes widened. I hadn't even thought about having to kiss Fred... but Fred just rolled his eyes and let out an impatient huff, apparently understanding where his twin was going with this conversation.

"Fred, Freddie, my dearest twin, my other half," George cooed and Fred's impatient demeanor began to soften as he ate up all the sweet flattery, "I can't hold it against you if you enjoy yourself, because it turns out that Granger is quite a good kisser."

Fred was now smirking at his brother, and I gasped, embarrassed that George was talking about my kissing abilities in front of other people, though Lee was watching us with only a mildly-interested expression.

"And, Hermione, my sweet little wife-to-be," George looked to me again, "Fred _is_ very handsome, so I can't fault you if you enjoy kissing him. All I ask," he took the time to stop and glance back and forth between me and Fred, "is that you keep your tongues _to yourselves_."

Fred started laughing while I slapped George's arm. My hands were bigger and thicker than normal, though, and there was a bit more strength behind my new muscles, and George grabbed his arm, wincing in pain.

"Who uses their tongues to kiss during a wedding ceremony?" Fred asked, still laughing and now shaking his head at his brother.

"I don't know and don't care, as long as it's not you two. _My_ tongue hasn't been inside her mouth yet, so _yours_," he gave Fred a firm but playful poke to the chest, "better bloody well stay out of it!"

"George!" I shrieked, but neither twin seemed concerned about my current state of humiliation.

"No worries, Georgie. You have certainly piqued my interest in regards to Granger's kissing skills, but rest assured that I am not the slightest bit attracted to her when she looks like _that_." He waved a hand in my direction and then turned to look at me. "No offense, Hermione. You're quite fetching in your normal state, but, well... at the moment, you just aren't my type." He offered me a wink which George repaid with a half-hearted shove.

"Alright boys, don't you think it's time we move this along?" Lee asked, and we all turned to look at him, choking back our laughter.

"Lee, mate, try not to sound like such a _bloke_," Fred said.

George nodded. "Yeah, it's really bloody weird, mate."

Then the twins exchanged a quick glance. "I guess this is it, then," Fred said, looking proudly at his assembled team of accomplices.

"It'll be a piece of cake," George said, staring directly at me and smiling. And then they were gone.

**********

In an effort to keep the event as secret as possible, the entire wedding ceremony consisted of only sixteen people: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and his assigned fiance, Percy (who was officiating) and Penelope, Ron and Hannah, Ginny and Harry, Lee, Fred, George, and myself. The fewer people who knew about the wedding, the smaller the chance that word would get back to Millicent or anyone else who could blow our scheme out of the water.

Fortunately, from the moment _Shirley_ and I arrived at the burrow and were greeted and welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, everything went smoothly. We were directed to Ginny's room and told that we could use it to freshen up and wait until time to start, and we were pretty much left to ourselves after that. So, Shirley and I sat and waited, taking small sips of our polyjuice potion every now and then, and inventing past shared experiences of Millicent and Shirley, in case anyone were to ask us any questions. Being the best friend of Fred and George Weasley, Lee himself had a great sense of humor and did an excellent job of keeping me calm and laughing, and when Mr. Weasley showed up to announce it was time for the ceremony and I began to freak out a bit, Lee took hold of my hand and kept it clasped in his while we made our way downstairs and out into the small garden off to the side of the burrow. To everyone else, it looked as if Millicent's best girlfriend was providing moral support on her big day, but Fred and George, knowing the truth, each raised an eyebrow when they noticed our intwined hands.

"It's going to be fine," Shirley leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Trust me when I say these guys are professionals at getting away with illegal stuff." He smiled and then let go of my hand before making his way down to stand with Fred, George, and Percy, and when he... she... was in his/her spot, I made the solo trip to join them.

The ceremony was short and to the point, Percy taking great care to leave out any over-the-top sentiments of love and happiness, which seemed to suit everyone just fine. I snuck a few glances at the faces seated around the garden, and none of them looked very pleased to be there. Charlie and Bill (and Fleur) were seated together, and their solemn expressions were better suited for a funeral than a wedding. Ginny, leaning into the comforting arm that Harry had wrapped around her shoulders, looked to be on the verge of tears, and I couldn't see Mrs. Weasley, who was sitting somewhere behind me, but I'd been listening to her crying since the ceremony began. It wasn't difficult to guess that they weren't tears of joy. No one wanted this marriage to take place. Fortunately, it wasn't _really_. But none of the onlookers were privy to that crucial bit of information. I couldn't even begin to imagine the repercussions if our plan fell apart. We would be, for lack of a better word, screwed. All I could do was have faith in the twins; have faith that they knew what they were doing, and have faith that they were figuring a way out of this mess. And I did. Call me certifiably insane, but I had faith.

I was drawn out of my thoughts by the sound of Percy clearing his throat, and suddenly realized that he'd pronounced us as husband and wife and Fred was now waiting to kiss his bride. The kiss was quick, a little more than a peck but not by much, and then it was over - the kiss, the ceremony, it was all over. Fred escorted me away, followed by George and _Shirley_, and the four of us let out a collective sigh of relief when we were out of sight and out of ear-shot of the remaining Weasleys.

"I think I've gone beyond the call of duty and have more than fulfilled my best friend responsibilities," Lee said, already pulling off the pretty, golden shoes he'd had on all evening.

"Yeah, you're free to go, mate," Fred said, nodding. "I definitely owe you one."

"Yes," Lee agreed with a smile. "You do." But he apparently didn't need to be told twice that he was relieved of his duties because he then turned on the spot and disapparated.

"What about us?" I asked, more than ready to get out of there and more than ready to return to my normal, busy-haired self. "How long do we have to stay and socialize?"

"I think you two can probably leave now," George said, shrugging his shoulders. "After saying goodbye to everyone first, of course."

I frowned. "What about you? Are you staying?"

"Well I can't exactly leave with you and Fred, now can I? You're supposed to be newly-weds, departing for a night of blissful, newly-wedded, sex." He flashed a grin upon seeing my uncomfortable expression.

Fred snorted. "Everyone knows I was completely against marrying Millicent, so I'm sure no one thinks I'm rushing home to make love to her. But," he said, flashing a grin of his own, "that's exactly why we'll be able to leave early." I narrowed my eyes at him, confused, so he explained. "You saw them, Hermione. They're only here to show their support in my difficult time. They'll understand that I'm not in the mood to celebrate and they don't look too keen on celebrating this union, either. Even mum won't have the heart to make me stay."

"Oh... Okay," I said, my voice unsure. It felt really rude to leave so soon, but, he did have a point: no one seemed to be in a celebratory mood. And I _did_ want to get out of that wedding dress and back into my comfortable, Hermione-sized pajamas.

"Alright," George said, smiling and rubbing his hands together. "We'll go back and you two will say goodbye to everyone, and be off on your merry way. I'll hang around for a bit, visit with the family, make a little chit-chat, and then meet you both back at the flat in half an hour or so, where we will definitely do a bit of our own celebrating. Yeah?"

"Fantastic," Fred said, grinning at his brother before turning to me. "Let's go find the others then, shall we?" He bowed slightly and then made a grand sweep with his arm, implying that we head back to the garden.

Something about his words and that specific gesture felt wrong, stirring an anxious fear in the pit of my stomach. It was only when I heard George's ragged breath as he sputtered and gasped for air, that I understood.

**

_"Well, I think we're about finished here. What do you think, Forge?" Fred grinned as he surveyed the room which was now littered with the corpses of several dark wizards._

_"I think you're right, Gred," George said, returning his twin's smile with one of his own._

_"Let's go find the others then, shall we?" Fred bowed slightly and then made a grand sweep with his arm, indicating the path we should take._

**

Fred's last words before he'd been killed. I looked at George. His complexion was suddenly pale and sickly, his face covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he was clutching his stomach like he might be sick.

I reached out to him. "George."

"Georgie?" Fred was already there, clutching his twin, but George just shook his head, staring wide-eyed at his brother, before forcefully pushing him away. Fred just stood there, looking shocked and hurt, probably having never been pushed away by George in the 20 years they'd been alive, but he came to his senses and immediately went after George who was making a hasty retreat away from the house.

"Fred, wait!" I grabbed his arm, but was forced to wrap myself around him, digging my heels into the dirt in an attempt to get him to stop moving and even notice that I was there. "Let me go after him," I said when I finally had his attention.

"Something is _wrong_, Hermione." He was taking care not to hurt me, but he was firmly struggling to get out of my grasp. "Please, _let go_."

I wanted Fred to know the truth. He deserved it, and I knew that he would be able to comfort George in a way that I would never be able to. But the truth couldn't come out right then, not there. Not with every other Weasley family member just around the corner of the house, probably all wondering where we'd gotten off to. The truth needed to come out. But not there.

"Fred!" I tightened my grip on him, though it was extremely difficult to do and though I'm sure he could have easily peeled me off if he wasn't concerned about hurting me. "He... he probably just has a stomach bug! There's been a bit of that going around lately and... and..." I knew I was grasping at straws, but I needed him to believe me. I needed him to let me go after George, and calm him down enough to get him back to the flat. I needed to get all three of us back to the flat. We could let it all out then. We just needed to get to the flat. "You saw him, Fred. He looked like he was going to be sick, he probably just doesn't want everyone watching." I tried to laugh even though I was really trying not to cry. "You go start saying goodbye to your family, I'll go check on George really quick, and then I'll join you again and the three of us will be back at your flat in just a few minutes. Alright?"

He finally stopped moving and looked down at me, considering my suggestion. He looked defeated but he nodded and I immediately shot off after George. A large part of me wanted to yell out to him, to make him stop in case he was considering apparating, but I couldn't risk drawing attention from the other Weasleys. I could barely see George in the steadily darkening night, but he'd removed his tux jacket and so, thankfully, his white dress shirt was easier to spot. He was approaching a rather large oak tree, and I watched as he roughly jerked and tugged at the knot in his tie until it hung loosely around his neck, and then quickly yanked open the top two buttons of his shirt, the two white buttons popping off and landing in the grass somewhere. His back crashed into the massive tree trunk and his body slid to the ground.

"George," I called out, when I was finally close enough that only he would be able to hear me. "George," I repeated, dropping to my knees in front of him, automatically reaching for his hands to provide him some sense of comfort, even as I struggled to catch my breath and ease the sharp pain in my right side. "It's okay, George."

He shook his head. "It isn't. It will never be okay."

A frightening chill crept up my spine. Not only were his eyes dull and his face expressionless, but his voice was completely void of emotion. There was no pain, no desperation, no anger. I couldn't detect the slightest trace of _anything_. "George, _please_. I know this is hard bu--"

"I want to be alone." His voice was soft and again, totally empty.

I firmly shook my head and held his hand tighter. "No."

"I mean it, Hermione. I don't need or want to be babysat, alright?" At least there was a little bit of feeling present that time. He sounded exhausted, and slightly angry. "You have to go."

"_No_."

The right corner of his mouth turned up just enough to give the illusion of a tiny smirk. "You really have to. You're changing back." He removed one of his hands from my grasp, reaching up to lazily finger a lock of my hair that was indeed changing from straight and black to wavy and chestnut. He sighed and let his hand fall limply into his lap again. "It'll ruin the whole plan if you and Fred don't leave now."

I let out a whimper. I didn't want to leave him there, not like that. But I would be letting down him and Fred both if the plan failed because of me. And George did seem better than he had a moment ago. That's what I told myself, anyway. It's what I repeated in my mind to justify being able to leave.

"It's going to be okay," I said again, squeezing his hand before standing up. "You can have a little bit more time to yourself, but you better be at the flat when Fred and I get there, George Weasley."

He just stared down at his lap, not saying anything.

"George? I'm serious."

He lifted his gaze to meet mine and then nodded meaningfully at the new, brown curl just above my left eye. "Go, Hermione."

So I did.

* * *

Hold on to your seats, ladies ;) (and gents, if there are any out there reading this!) And please remember what I said in the prologue about the way things will end. I'm totally a happily-ever-after type girl, so by all means, enjoy the angst! I swear I'll make it up to you. :)

Reviews are welcome, as always!!! I said it last time but it's worth saying again: you guys are so stinkin' AWESOME!


	12. Chapter 11 Searching for George

This chapter is just a _little_ bit shorter than the last few have been, but only because I decided to break a really long chapter into two shorter chapters. I've already written most of the next chapter so, if it isn't up today, look for it to be up tomorrow. :)

Just a little warning that the next chapter (or at least part of it) is going to be darker than anything I've written so far.. I don't think it's _too _dark and it will be considerably lighter by the end of the chapter, but, I just wanted to give a little heads up.

I still don't own anything.

Please forgive any typos or mistakes you find. If I catch any that I missed the first time around, I'll go back and fix them. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Fred and George had been right, the family didn't try to make us stay, so Fred and I quickly clambered up onto his broom to leave (apparently a Weasley-family tradition.) I was so worried about George and so concerned about hiding my rapidly-changing appearance from the rest of the Weasleys, that there wasn't even room in my mind to entertain my fear of flying. Still, I was aware of the unpleasant dropping sensation in my stomach when Fred kicked off from the ground, but I was also aware of his arms, one wrapped tightly around my waist, holding me safely in place in front of him, and the other arm stretched around me, grasping the broomstick, skillfully and effortlessly steering us in the direction of the flat.

"Is George alright?" Fred asked as soon as we leveled out and reached a steady speed.

"I... I don't know," I answered truthfully. "But I told him to be back at the flat by the time we get there, so you'll see for yourself in just a few minutes."

Fred leaned forward then, increasing our speed, obviously impatient to see his brother. My fear of heights was beginning to push it's way to the front of my mind now that I was no longer worried about our plan being exposed, so I clenched my eyes shut, concentrating on keeping my breathing slow and steady, and then with the smallest amount of movement possible, I wiggled backwards until my back was firmly pressed against Fred's chest. His arm tightened around me and he rested his chin on top of my shoulder so he could speak directly into my ear.

"Do you honestly think I'm going to drop you?" he said, and I was surprised to hear the amusement in his voice.

"Well..." I cleared my throat and tried to keep my own voice calm, "I don't think you'd do it on p-purpose."

He laughed. "I'm not going to let you fall, intentionally _or_ accidentally. George would _kill_ me if I returned you to him in anything less than perfect-condition."

"I really doubt that," I said, thankful that George wasn't there to hear Fred's poor choice of words.

"Okay, maybe not. But, all the same, I don't think it would fare well for me if I hurt the girl he's gone and fallen in love with."

I turned my head as far as it would go, tilting it back a bit so that I could see Fred's face which was still propped up on my shoulder. He was smiling at me, waiting for my reaction.

I shook my head at him. "Stop it, Fred," I said with a sigh.

"Stop what?"

"You are definitely misinformed. George isn't in love with me."

He snorted. "Are you suggesting that I don't know my twin?" When I didn't respond, he continued on, a little more seriously. "I know George and I know that the poor bloke is in over his head. He. loves. you."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "I know he loves me. But that doesn't mean he's _in_ love with me."

Fred quirked an eyebrow. "And I suppose you're going to tell me that there's a difference."

He said it more as a statement than a question, but I answered him anyway. "Yes. Yes, there is." I fell silent, thinking of the best way to explain myself. "Take Harry and Ron for example. I feel responsible for them, I want the best for them, and there isn't much I wouldn't do if they asked it of me. They are my friends and I love them."

Fred pulled back a little, removing his chin from my shoulder and narrowing his eyes as he tried to follow my logic. "And you think that description fits what George feels for you? You think he feels responsible for you, and wants you to be happy, because he loves you as a friend?"

"Basically? Yes. George didn't _choose_ to be with me; we were forced into it. But we're friends and he cares about me, so he's doing everything in his power to make the situation bearable for me. It's very sweet and respectable and I can't tell you how thankful I--"

"Okay, wait just a tick," Fred interrupted, and I turned my head to look at him again. His brow was furrowed and there was a frown in place on his lips. "I'll agree that George does see you as a friend and of course he wants to make this easy on you, but you can't honestly tell me that you think that's as far as his feelings go. You may be a lot of things, Hermione, but I've never known you to be obtuse."

I sighed again. Apparently I wasn't doing a good job of successfully conveying my thoughts. "I'm not saying that he doesn't care deeply, Fred." After George's touching declaration just a few nights earlier, I knew that he cared, very, very much. He'd offered to fully devote his life to my comfort and happiness, for goodness sakes, but I was sure that that vow had everything to do with the feelings of gratitude he felt towards me for my role in helping bring his twin back. I couldn't very well explain that to Fred though, could I? "I just don't think that he's _in love_ with me," I said again, rather lamely. "We've been--" I paused, realizing I didn't even know how to label my relationship with George, "--_together_, or whatever we are, for approximately two weeks! People don't fall in love in two weeks."

"Maybe they do when they've known each other for almost eight years," Fred said, and I could feel his arms move against me as he shrugged his shoulders. "Is it really that difficult to believe?"

"Yes," I said, and paused before adding, "I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, if you want my opinion, which, of course, you do--" he let out a small chuckle, his breath lifting a tuft of hair just above my right temple, "--I think you're over-analyzing things. But, I suppose I'm not the twin who should be trying to convince you of all this." He fell silent for a while, concentrating on beginning our descent as the shop and the flat came into view on the horizon. He flew us around to the back entrance in an effort to avoid the unwanted attentions of the individuals who were out enjoying the night-life of Diagon Alley, and he made a smooth landing, holding the broom steady and offering his hand to help me climb off, something that proved to be rather difficult while wearing a wedding dress that was now several sizes too big.

"But just so you know," he began again as he dismounted the broom, "George's eyes get this sort of glazed-over look whenever he talks about you, he came home grinning like a complete idiot the night you two kissed the first time, and, I've noticed that ever since the night of the final battle, he stares at you like you're the prettiest, most brilliant witch in the entire world. But, you know," Fred paused long enough to open the door for me, "you can interpret that however you want."

I stared at his grinning face for a moment before heading through the door. Was he right? Was George Weasley falling in love with me?

****

"George?" I was calling out for him before we were even fully inside the flat, and my heart sank when I realized that the place was completely dark. I walked through to the back of the flat, looking in his bedroom, in Fred's bedroom, and in the bathroom as Fred followed behind me, turning the lights on with a wave of his hand as he went. I'd forgotten how good the twins were with wandless magic. "George?" I called out, several more times, only hearing silence in return.

"He's not here yet, Hermione," Fred said, and I thought to myself that the flight home must have soothed him because he didn't seem nearly as worried about his brother as he had been initially. "If he's sick, mum's probably fussing over him and force-feeding him the soup she always makes whenever one of us is feeling ill. I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he can pull himself away. Just give him a few more minutes." Fred's mouth rose into an easy smile and he patted my shoulder as he walked past me and into his bedroom.

I nodded, though I couldn't seem to drown out the persistent, nagging voice in my mind that told me I really needed to be looking for George.

"Now, if you'll excuse me for a moment, I'm going to get out of this sodding thing," he said, already discarding his tux jacket and then pulling at his tie, letting them both fall to the bedroom floor. I nodded again, barely listening to what he was saying, but continued to stand there, lost in my thoughts. Fred was now unbuttoning his dress shirt, staring at me with an amused smirk on his face. "I don't really mind you watching, Granger, but I'm not so sure how Georgie would feel about it."

I immediately brought my hands up to cover my eyes, my face burning in embarrassment. "Oh my goodness, Fred! I'm sorry! I wasn't looking--I mean, obviously I was looking but I was just standing here and thinking and I wasn't trying to--" I felt my hands being pried away from my face.

Fred was chuckling and shaking his head at me. "I'm only teasing you, Hermione. But, seriously, I am going to shut the door now. If you want to see a Weasley twin in all his naked splendor, you're just going to have to ask George. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to oblige." He gave me a cheeky wink and then closed his bedroom door, leaving me standing in the hallway with my mouth open in shock.

I stayed there for a moment, even after the shock had worn off, straining my ears and listening for any sound to announce George's arrival, but the flat remained empty and silent except for the occasional creak of the floorboard as Fred moved about in his room. I was feeling more anxious with every passing second, wondering where George was, wondering what he was feeling and doing and wondering if I should go looking for him even though he'd made it painfully clear that he didn't want me around at the moment. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so helpless and powerless.

With my shoulders slumped and my head down, I made my way back to George's bedroom, closing the door behind myself, and finally let go of the loose dress I'd been holding in place for the last half-hour. With just the slightest shimmy of my hips, the gown fell from my body, taking the over-sized undergarments with it, leaving all three pieces of fabric in a pool around my feet. I could hear Fred through the adjoining wall, opening and closing drawers from the sound of it, and I quickly reached for my wand and flicked it at the door to lock it. I could only hope that George wouldn't choose that moment to apparate directly into his bedroom...

Especially since I couldn't find the clothes that I'd arrived in earlier that day. I remembered laying them across the bed at first, but then I'd moved them to the desk chair where they'd be out of the way, and then I'd decided to fold them and tuck them in a neat pile under the bed, not wanting my bra and knickers to be seen by any of the three boys who'd been in the flat. But now, I couldn't find the clothes _anywhere_, and what was already a terrible night, became even worse. All throughout the day, I'd been nervous about that fake wedding, and as soon as it was over and I was finally feeling like I could relax, George's most painful and most terrifying life experience had been, in part at least, replayed right before his eyes, and I'd made the awful decision to just leave him, feeling broken and totally alone. Now, I had no idea where he was or how he was doing or if he was safe or if he'd gone and done something stupid to get himself hurt, and I wanted to go find him even though part of me knew I shouldn't because he'd specifically asked to be alone. I wanted to go find him, despite his request, but I couldn't because I couldn't even find my clothes! Feeling scared for George, feeling angry with myself for leaving him, and now feeling quite literally naked and vulnerable, I sat down on George's bed, pulling at the comforter and wrapping it around my body just as I started to cry.

There was a knock at the door. "Hermione?" came the muffled sound of Fred's voice.

"Ju-just a minute!" I called back, trying to sound chipper. I failed miserably. My voice was cracking and weak, and hearing how pathetic I sounded only made me cry harder. I'd always hated feeling weak.

"Granger..." Fred said, sounding more concerned. I heard the doorknob jiggle as he tried unsuccessfully to get in. "Are you crying?"

"N-n-nooo." The "o" was choppy and drawn out as another sob tore from my lungs.

There was a short silence before Fred called out a warning that he was coming in and I had just enough time to properly cover up before I heard the click of the door being unlocked. Fred was inside just a fraction of a second later, rushing towards me but, when he saw me sitting on the bed, wrapped in George's blanket with my bare legs sticking out, he came to a grinding halt, looking back and forth between me and the pile of fabric lying on the floor near his feet.

"Hermione? What are you doing?"

I held my head up high, struggling to hold on to whatever miniscule amount of dignity I might still possess. "I can't find my clothes." I knew that my face must have been a wet, splotchy mess, but I didn't dare risk disrupting the perfectly arranged blankets to try to fix it.

Fred ran a hand over his own face and let out a shaky breath. "Merlin, woman, you scared me." I felt fresh tears forming in my eyes and I stared down intently at the pattern of the blanket that I was wrapped up in. "Alright, so, where did you leave them when you changed?" he asked when he realized I wasn't intending to speak again as long as I could avoid it.

I looked up at him, fuming. "If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn't have a problem, now would I?"

He only smiled in response to my snippy tone. "I'm not sure what you're going on about," he began, bouncing lightly on his toes, clearly not discouraged, "I hardly think that you losing your clothes is the _worst_ thing that could possibly happen." And then, he had the audacity to wink at me.

But, unfortunately for him, I was feeling far too distressed to find it even the slightest bit humorous. "Fred Weasley--" I started to threaten him but my words were choked as I tried to swallow a new sob.

"Alright, alright." He held up his hands in surrender and took a step towards me. "I see you're not in the mood. I'm sorry. Just... calm down, okay?" He quickly crossed the room to George's dresser and opened the top drawer, pulling out a pair of baby-blue boxers, and then he moved down to the third drawer and pulled out a t-shirt with alternating horizontal stripes of light grey and navy. "Put these on and then I'll help you look, alright?" He handed me the clothes and then went to wait out in the hall.

I pulled on George's boxers and t-shirt and then let Fred back into the room, and we must have spent at least 20 minutes looking for my clothes, checking under the bed, searching through the closet, but it was no use. It was like they'd just disappeared.

"Huh," Fred said, scratching his head with a confused expression as he lowered himself onto George's bed. "And you're sure that you were wearing clothes when you came over?" I was on the floor, checking under the bed one last time, and I looked up at Fred, my lips in a tight, straight line. "Yeah, I suppose I would have noticed if you weren't," he said, grinning.

I sighed, giving up on the search, and then sat on the floor with my back against the bed. I looked up at the clock on George's bedside table; it had been almost an hour since I'd left George sitting under that tree outside the burrow.

"Fred?"

"You're going to go check on George." It was a statement and not a question.

"Um. Yes."

He flopped backwards onto his brother's bed, letting out a loud huff. "Suppose I'll just stay put. I can't exactly show up at the house with everyone thinking I just got married, eh? Might raise some unwanted questions."

The twins didn't seem like the kind to enjoy prolonged periods of solitude, and I could see how much Fred disliked the idea of staying behind. "I'm sorry, Fred. But it's probably better this way." He lifted his head off the bed to aim a sulky glance in my direction, and I couldn't help but smile a little at the way his bottom lip was protruding as he pouted. "This way, you'll be here if George comes home before I find him."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Before you find him? He's just at the burrow, isn't he?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that. Yes, George was at the burrow when I left him, and yes, that's where I was going to check first, but I really doubted that George would have stayed there for so long... "I'm about to find out," I told Fred, trying to reassure him with a small smile. "But, if George comes home before I've seen him, let me know, alright?"

Fred frowned. "Yeah," he said, letting his head fall back onto the bed. "Of course."

*****

I couldn't very well apparate directly into the burrow and risk being seen in only George Weasley's boxers and t-shirt, so I chose to apparate back to the spot under the tree where I'd last seen George. I'd already told myself that he wouldn't be there, but it still hurt to be proven right. I leaned my back against the tree, resting against the same place where George had, and tried to think of where he might be.

There were lights on inside the Weasley home, and there were loud voices, laughing and chatting, along with sounds of clinking glasses and silverware, coming from the garden on the other side of the house. My spirits rose a little and I began to hope that George was there, enjoying a meal with his family, and I told myself that maybe he'd just lost track of time and hadn't meant to worry his twin and me. As quietly as I could, I made my way around the house, stopping behind a shrub which protected me from the family's eyes while still allowing me to see all of them. And they were all still there, some finishing supper at the large outside table that they often ate at when the weather was nice, others were off in pairs or groups, talking and laughing and enjoying each other's company. The only person missing was the one I was desperate to find.

Fortune hadn't entirely abandoned me, however, as I realized that Ginny was at the furthest end of the garden, her attention completely occupied by whatever she was discussing with her brother Charlie, and Harry was sitting quite alone, nearest to me.

"_Psst_," I whispered, and Harry's entire body tensed up. He'd made great strides in taking his life back after all he'd been through over the years, but he was still always on edge. "_Harry_." I whispered his name, hoping he'd recognize my voice and relax. I watched as his head turned to the left, and then to the right, before he finally turned all the way around. His gaze landed on me, and his eyes went wide with surprise for just a second before they narrowed. He looked suspicious... and maybe a little angry. I motioned him over with my hand and Harry quickly looked around, making sure that no one was watching, and then he stood up and made his way towards me. I slipped back around the corner of the house, and Harry joined me a moment later.

"What're you doing?" he whispered a little harshly, but then softened his voice before adding, "Ginny told me you were sick. Are you alright?" His demeanor changed yet again as a smile spread across his face. "Hermione... why are you wearing boys underpants? Better yet, _who's_ underpants are you wearing?"

I groaned, waving an impatient hand at him. "Not important right now. Have you seen George?"

"Are those his?" He was still grinning as he nodded at the boxers I was wearing, but then his face grew serious again when he saw that I wasn't amused. "Not since the wedding," he answered, shaking his head. "Why?"

I was trying not to panic, but knowing that George was hurting somewhere, completely alone, terrified me. "Harry, I need your help with something."

The expression on my face must have scared him because he took a step towards me and reached out to place a supportive hand on each of my arms. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath, willing my voice to stay steady. "I need you to come with me and help me find George, but I need you to swear that you won't tell anyone where you're going or what you're doing."

"What?" he said, looking at me like he wasn't sure if he should be worried or if he should laugh.

"Harry, please."

"O-okay. Is George in trouble?"

"I don't know."

He raised his eyebrows. "You don't know?"

I could feel my eyes tearing up and Harry opened his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "Please don't ask questions and please don't repeat any of this to anyone."

"What's with all the secrecy, Hermione?" He asked, looking at me in a way that made it clear I'd wounded him. "Don't you trust me enough to tell me what's really going?"

I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. How could he doubt that I trusted him? I was asking him for help _because_ I trusted him so much! But I couldn't tell him everything without revealing where I'd been and what I'd been doing all day, nor could I explain George's behavior without betraying the secrets of the pain he was experiencing. I just couldn't do that. I blinked away the moisture that was clouding my eyes, and held my head up high. I was just going to have to find George alone, so I turned and started to walk away.

"Hermione, wait." Harry grabbed my arm and spun me back around to face him. He sighed. "Just tell me what you need me to do."

I couldn't summon a full smile, but I settled for flinging my arms around my dearest friend's neck, hugging him tightly. "Is everyone still outside?"

After removing himself from my embrace, Harry crept to the corner of the house and peered around into the garden for just a moment before turning back to me. "Yeah."

"Okay. I'm going to go put on some clothes while you go make up an excuse about why you have to leave, and then I'll meet you back here in 2 minutes, alright?" Harry still looked skeptical but he nodded and began to walk away to join the others. "Harry," I called after him, "don't mention that you've seen me and don't mention George."

"Yeah, I got it," he whispered, looking just a little annoyed, and then disappeared around the corner.

I moved far enough away so that I wouldn't be heard, and then apparated directly into the bedroom I shared with Ginny, and quickly threw on some undergarments before slipping into a pair of jeans, and, to save time, I opted to stay in George's t-shirt. When I returned to meet Harry, he was already there waiting for me.

I held my hand out to him. "Ready?"

"Yeah, but where--"

I cut him off, grabbing his hand and apparating us both to a place just outside the village of Hogsmeade.

"We're going to try all the pubs in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley," I said, answering his unfinished question.

As I led the way to the Three Broomsticks, I recalled the remark that George had made on our date when he'd been contemplating what his life would have been like if we hadn't saved Fred. He'd said he'd likely be passed out somewhere, clutching a bottle of firewhiskey. I hoped that George wasn't feeling that desperate, but as I thought about the awful night he'd had, I knew better than to indulge myself in wishful thinking.

"Harry," I said, pausing at the door leading into the pub, "there's a good chance George might be drunk when we find him." I used the word _when_ because I was too stubborn to even consider the possibility of not finding him. I wouldn't stop looking until I knew he was safe. "And, if he is drunk, he might be saying some really ridiculous things and I'm begging you, whatever you do - please don't repeat anything that you hear."

Harry frowned and I could see that he was using all of his self-control to keep himself from asking questions, but then he nodded and opened the door for me and the two of us slipped inside.

We searched the crowd, scanning all the faces of the people sitting at the tables and at the bar, but George wasn't there, and according to Madame Rosmerta, he and his twin hadn't visited her fine establishment since before the final battle. Feeling discouraged, but not yet defeated, Harry and I made our way to the Hogshead pub a little further out on the outskirts of the village. The place was dark and dingy, and the crowd was much smaller (and a little scarier) than the group at the Three Broomsticks, but again, there was no sign of George.

"A couple of the shops are still open; do you want to check any of them?" Harry asked as we stepped out of the musty old pub and into the fresh night air.

I shook my head. "I really doubt George is in the mood for doing any shopping."

"The Leaky Cauldron then?" Harry asked, offering his arm for me in a gentlemanly fashion.

I didn't take it, choosing instead to nervously wring my hands while staring at the ground. "I want you to go there, yes. But there's somewhere else I'm going to check first." It had to have been close to 2 hours since I'd last seen George, and now I was really beginning to worry. I could no longer ignore the part of George's comment in which he had specified where, exactly, he'd be passed out with that bottle of fire-whiskey. I took a step away from Harry, ensuring that I was out of his reach.

"_Hermione_," he said, tilting his head and shooting me a warning glare when I took another step away from him.

I gave him a weak smile, but decided that maybe I should tell him. Just so he'd know where to look for my body in case I didn't come back... "I'mgoingtoKnockturnAlley," I said, letting the words tumble out of my mouth in rapid succession, and then disapparated before Harry had a chance to stop me.

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Thanks for all the fantastic reviews! They make me smile like this ---- :D

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.. and, like I said, I hope to have the next chapter up sometime this evening or tomorrow at the latest. Prepare yourselves for some drama! ;)


	13. Chapter 12 The Misdeeds of Drunken Men

Yay for two updates in one day! Although, a little bit of bad news is that I probably won't have the next chapter up until sometime next week. I have family coming in from out of town for a long-weekend visit which means I have to stop writing long enough to get the house in order tomorrow and then I'll be busy entertaining once the family is here. So, I'm really sorry in advance for the delay but I'm SUPER excited about the next chapter, so hopefully you guys will like it too and not hate me quite so much for making you wait :)

Another small warning that this chapter is a little darker. I don't think it's all that bad, really, but since the rest of my story has been fairly light so far (other than the angst surrounding the secret of Fred's death) parts of this chapter definitely seem a bit dark. But, hey, Hermione is going to Knockturn Alley, after all. That should warrant a bit of darkness, I suppose.

Please forgive any typos.

Would you believe it, I still don't own anything! :P

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I took a deep, shaky breath, slipping my hand into the pocket of my blue jeans and tightening my fingers around my wand as I made my way down the alley behind Borgin & Burkes towards the main street of Knockturn Alley. The place was dark and filthy and smelled like a mixture of alcohol, urine, and something slightly metallic that I assumed to be blood. I passed several shops, all of them still open even though it was getting rather late, and I tried to keep my head down as I walked, searching for anything that might resemble a pub or tavern.

I was terrifyingly aware that, in spite of my best efforts to avoid eye-contact, I was still drawing attention. I tried to ignore the stares and whispers of a group of haggard-looking witches with scraggly, black hair and large, crooked noses as I passed them by, and one of them called out to me, reached for me, but I was able to jerk my arm from her grasp and keep moving. I didn't dare scream or cause a scene, not wanting to attract even more attention to myself. At that moment, more than anything else, I desired the security of Harry's invisibility cloak.

There was nothing that could be done about that, though, and so I continued on. My heart was pounding now, harder than it ever had in all the years I'd helped Harry fight the dark powers of the wizarding world. Even when I was being tortured, I'd never felt as afraid as I did at that moment. Probably because I'd never felt so alone, so isolated from any and everyone who could possibly help me. Still, all it took was a moment imagining that George was down there somewhere, drinking himself into a stupor and then finding himself at the mercy of a dark witch or wizard and the small flame of courage in my heart was stoked and fueled enough to keep me moving forward.

And then I saw it, a building with huge, heavy wooden doors which, when opened, let a blast of noise and laughter out into the night and filled the air with an even more pungent aroma of alcohol. With my hand still firmly wrapped around my wand, I caught the door as someone else stumbled out, and I made my way inside.

The place was crowded as I tried to move around, following the flow of moving people, searching for any sign of George Weasley's ginger hair, and my stomach began to churn as I became increasingly aware of the number of gazes following me. I pressed the back of my free wrist to my mouth, trying to stifle the urge to gag as my nose was overwhelmed by not only the stench of alcohol, but the smells of old vomit, and sweat and some other musty scent that I couldn't distinguish, and tears began to sting my eyes and blur my vision when several minutes had passed with no sign of George.

I passed a rowdy group of men, cheering and shouting as they encircled another man who was engaged in some sort of twisted sexual act with two, young, half-naked witches, and then I realized that that other scent in the air was the heavy smell of sex, and my stomach rolled and lurched as an opening in the crowd gave me a clear view of the three people in the center. The tears that had been threatening to spill began to fall at once and I suddenly couldn't catch my breath. I felt like I was being suffocated, and so I turned, stumbling as I tried to fight through the crowd to get to the door, and I lost count of how many people I jostled and elbowed as I fled, but the only thing I could concentrate on was the feel of my lungs burning, aching for fresh air.

I burst through the door and kept going, running just until I found a small alleyway to hide in, and then I stopped, hunching over and placing my hands on my knees as I struggled to catch my breath and calm myself down. But the sounds of heavy footsteps reached my ears and I looked up just in time to see two... four... _five_ wizards turn the corner, approaching me with slow, steady gaits, their dirty, black robes billowing out behind them as they walked.

"Well, well, what have we here?" one man drawled.

"Such a pretty, _delicate_ little thing," another added, and I felt adrenaline pulsing through my veins as my body prepared to protect itself from harm. I yanked my wand from my pocket and aimed it at the nearest man.

"Stupefy!" I shouted, and then ran in the opposite direction as soon as the spell made contact with my intended victim. But the alley was a dead end. There was a brick wall to my left, a brick wall to my right, and my back soon met with yet a third brick wall. The only way out was the way I'd come, and, unfortunately, the path was blocked by the four men who continued to advance on me. I raised my wand, ready to fire a spell, but, then, I suddenly found myself unable to move or speak.

"Oh," one man said in a mockingly sympathetic voice, and as he drew closer, I saw that he had his wand pointed at me, using some sort of dark curse to keep me still and quiet. "I don't think she wants to play with us," he finished, receiving a burst of loud laughter from his companions.

"Did you not enjoy the show in the pub, little girl?" called another man as the group continued towards me, forming a half-circle around me.

"I think she just needs to be shown what she's missing," came another, husky voice.

"I agree." The man closest to me, the one controlling me, peered down into my face with a sick grin, revealing a mouth full of yellow and rotting teeth. "But it's much more fun when they struggle," he hissed, and then lowered his wand. I immediately felt my muscles relaxing, but before I could cast a spell, he grabbed my wrist in a painfully tight grip, twisting until I cried out in pain, and my wand fell to the stony ground with a muted thud.

Things began happening quickly after that, and I could no longer recognize the words they were saying, and I couldn't tell which hands belonged to which man, but I knew that one hand was at my throat, holding me in place against the wall, and one hand had snaked it's way under my shirt, roughly pawing at the bare skin of my stomach, and then I heard a quiet jingling sound, and my eyes widened in terror as I saw one of the men beginning to undo his belt and then the top button of his trousers. I was certain I was going to pass out, I was hoping and praying that I would, so that I wouldn't have to have the memory of what was about to happen to me... And then it all stopped.

My eyes were closed, so I forced them open again, and found that all the men were still standing there, one with his hand still under my shirt, and one with his hand still to my throat, but the man closest to me had a wand pointed at his neck by someone I couldn't quite see standing just behind him.

"Get... your hands... off of her... _now_." The voice was slow and furious and so wonderfully familiar that I thought I might explode with relief.

"_Harry_," I breathed.

The man's eyes widened and I watched as he slowly turned to face the infamous dark-haired boy with the lightning-bolt-shaped scar, who still had him fixed under the tip of his wand, and then with a loud crack, the man disapparated, immediately followed by the others.

"Hermione," Harry said, very softly, trying to get through to me in my state of shock. "Are you hurt?"

I raised a trembling hand, running it over my frizzy hair, over my cheek and down my throat to the tender place where the man's fingers had been. My legs were shaking so badly that I could barely stand, but I was physically unharmed. "I'm.. I'm okay. Thanks to you."

Harry bent down and picked up my wand and returned it to me, studying me carefully as I began to smooth out my rumpled shirt - the grey and navy striped shirt that belonged to George and suddenly reminded me so fiercely of him that it made my heart ache. George. _My _George_._ I needed him. _Now_.

"Did you find him? Did you find George?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, frowning at me. "Of course not. As soon as you left I came here looking for you. Merlin, Hermione!" His voice was suddenly harsh and his face was reddening as the reality of the situation began to sink in. "What in the world would possess you to come here? You do realize there are still death eaters on the loose, don't you?"

"I thought that George--" I started trying to explain but was cut off.

"George isn't a complete lunatic! There's no way he would be in Knockturn Alley alone at this time of night!"

I didn't have time for Harry's lecture. "I have to find him," I said and my resolve was firm even though my voice was weak.

"I think you should go home and rest." Harry said, sounding equally firm, though his voice was filled with genuine concern.

"I can't. I _won't_. Not until I find George." I shoved away from the wall, planning to disapparate, but as soon as I'd moved, Harry's hand was grasping my arm.

"Do you really think I'm letting you go off on your own again? I'm coming with you."

I gave him a weak, appreciative smile, grabbed hold of his other hand, and then immediately apparated us both to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, still protectively holding my hand as we made our way through the crowd inside the pub. "Where do we go next if George isn't here?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, continuing to tug Harry along, my eyes always searching for a shock of red-hair. If George wasn't there, where else would he be? He could be anywhere! But I couldn't think about that. Not yet.

Harry stopped suddenly, pulling me back. "Let's go ask Tom," he said, jerking his head towards the bar where the old caretaker of the Leaky Cauldron was standing, serving drinks to customers.

I nodded and we made our way to the bar, waiting quietly (but impatiently) for him to finish collecting payment from a frumpy old wizard, before he finally turned his attention to us.

"Harry, m'boy!" he exclaimed with a grin, reaching across the bar to shake Harry's hand. "And, Miss... Granger, isn't it?" he added as he turned to me.

"Yes, sir." I tried to smile politely, even though my insides were screaming from all the stress of the evening.

"We're looking for a friend of ours," Harry began, once again securing the old man's attention. "And we were hoping you might could tell us if he's been here."

"Oh?" The man raised his eyebrows, seeming quite interested. "And who is it you're looking for?"

Anxious to hear his response, I spoke up before Harry even had time to open his mouth. "George Weasley? Tall? Shaggy, ginger hair?"

"He's hard to miss, really," Harry added.

"Sure," Tom said, nodding thoughtfully. "One of the twins from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, right?"

Harry and I both nodded.

"Yeah, he was here. Reckon he still is."

The air exited my lungs in an audible _whoosh_. Too happy to even speak, I held a hand to my heart, feeling like an enormous weight had been lifted from me.

"Had a pretty little brunette with him," Tom continued, and my body suddenly went numb. "Suppose she was his fiance. Heard her trying to talk him into getting a room upstairs.." His lips formed a playful grin, and he raised his eyebrows at Harry.

"_I'm_ his fiance!" I shouted, so loudly that several witches and wizards around us turned to stare and Harry grimaced before ducking his head slightly.

"Oh.. I.. ah.." Tom's face was a ruddy shade of red as he tried to think of something to say. "Sorry," he mumbled before walking away to get someone a refill.

"Harry," I whimpered pathetically, not sure how I could stand it if George was seeking comfort in sex with someone else...

Harry's jaw was clenched tightly and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. I knew that if there was any way he could help me, if there was any way he could fix this, Harry would do it. Then his eyes settled on something behind me, and he nodded, indicating that I should turn around, so I did.

And there he was. Sitting at a small table in the corner across the room, was George. His black tuxedo jacket was draped carelessly over the table, his long, white sleeves had been shoved up to his elbows, and his hair was wild and tousled, sticking up in random places. In front of him was a bottle of fire-whiskey and a shot glass, and I watched as he filled the glass and brought it to his lips and then quickly swallowed the liquid down. But what I noticed more than anything else, was Katie Bell. Sitting far too close and looking far too cozy at George's side. George seemed much more focused on his drink than on the girl beside him, but Katie leaned in, whispering something into his ear, and oh, how I wanted to hex her into oblivion.

I began to storm across the room.

"Hermione," Harry said in a pleading voice as he followed close behind, obviously worried that I was going to cause a scene. Ironic how he was the most famous boy in wizarding history, and yet he always hated being the center of attention.

George looked up, completely surprised as I positioned myself in front of the table, my arms crossed over my chest to keep myself from acting on my urge to physically remove Katie from her seat by her hair. "'Mione," he said, and I was a bit taken aback by the nickname that I usually only ever heard from Ron. I figured George was probably too drunk to say my full name at the moment. "What're you doin' here?" Yep. His words were all slurred together and his eyes were glassy, but something told me it was because of the alcohol and not because he was in love with me as Fred had been trying to convince me earlier.

Katie, looking extremely nervous, stood up from her seat, and it was the first time I'd noticed that one of her hands had been under the table, hidden from view. If her hand had been in his lap, Merlin help her... and him, as well. "He's really drunk," Katie said, stating the obvious. "I thought I should keep an eye on him."

"Erm.. thanks," Harry muttered, clearly trying to diffuse the tension in the air, but he shut his mouth again after I shot him a particularly nasty glare.

"I guess I'll be going," she said, casting one last glance at George before moving away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

"George?" I knew that he wasn't in his right mind, so I was trying to stay calm, but I couldn't stop my voice from shaking with the anger I was feeling. "We're leaving. You need some rest."

A wide, toothy grin crept over his face. "Is that your roundabout way of hinting that you'd like to get me in bed, Granger?" His words were so lazily spoken that it was a little difficult to understand them. "You know, love, we could just get a room upstairs..."

My hands balled into fists. "I'm taking you _home_," I said, even though I really felt like yelling at him and asking him if he got that idea from Katie.

"Home," George repeated slowly, frowning like he didn't know the meaning of the word. "S'not home. Fred's gone. It's can't be home without Fred."

Oh no. "George," I said, firmly. "Fred isn't gone. He's just _married_, remember? He isn't gone. He's still here." I was hoping that I could reach George and remind him of the reality of the situation before he spilled everything in front of Harry.

"He did this to himself because Fred got married and moved out?" Harry asked, both eyebrows raised in his curiosity.

George suddenly placed his palms on the table top and started to stand. "I have to--" he began but then stopped, his body swaying as he tried to find his balance and Harry quickly made his way around to him, grabbing onto one of George's arms to keep him from falling over. When he was finally standing up (with Harry's help), he tried again. "Need to see him..."

Any anger that I'd been feeling melted away as George stared at me with his brown eyes, wide and watery, begging me to ease his pain by getting him to his twin. I swallowed hard and nodded at him.

"But Fred's at Millicent's place," Harry said, looking confused as he tried to follow the silent exchange that had passed between George and me.

"It's alright," I told him, taking my place on the other side of George and wrapping an arm around his waist. "I'll take care of it from here."

"But--"

"Harry, please." I bit my lower lip, giving him a pleading look. "No questions." Harry let go of George's arm, stepping in front of us so he could look at me, and I had to tighten my grip around George to keep him from stumbling over. "I'm taking him straight to his flat. We'll be fine. Promise."

"Alright, fine," Harry said, though he didn't look happy.

"Thank you for helping me." I wanted to hug him but couldn't, since my body was supporting George's drunken weight. "You're the best, Harry." I gave him a small, thankful smile which he returned, and then I disapparated with George.

Disapparating requires intense concentration, and is a difficult task even under the best of circumstances, so I shouldn't have been entirely surprised when my legs buckled under George's heavy body, and we both landed with a crash on the living-room floor of the twins' flat, tangled together in an ungraceful knot. His face was close to mine, his breath warm and smelling strongly of bitter alcohol, but his eyes were still so big and dark and innocent as he stared at me. He reached up, reverently stroking my hair as he held my gaze with those eyes.

"So beautiful," he said, barely breathing the words.

"George?" Fred came bounding into the room just a second later. "Hermione? Are you okay?" he asked both of us when he saw us on the floor.

Surprisingly, given how drunk he was, George was up first, though he promptly toppled forward into his twin. "Freddie," George said with a contented sigh, wrapping his arms around Fred's midsection, and Fred immediately encircled him in his arms.

"Is he drunk?" Fred asked, his eyes wide in shock as he stared at me.

"Oh, George is very drunk," George slurred before I could answer. And then he groaned.

"George?" Fred and I both said at the same time.

"I'm going to be sick."

Fred frowned but grasped his brother by the shoulders and turned him, gently but quickly leading him down the hall to the bathroom. I followed after them but stayed just outside in the hallway. I could hear George, coughing and retching and emptying the contents of his stomach, but I really didn't want to see it.

"Hermione?" Fred called after everything had been silent for several seconds. I peeked my head inside. George was on his knees on the floor in front of the toilet, and Fred was seated right behind him, holding a comforting hand against his twin's back.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. He can usually hold his alcohol better than this but I think apparating did him in. Not a good idea when you're this drunk."

I raised a hand to my mouth, feeling guilty. "I'm so sorry."

Fred just smiled softly. "It's alright. You didn't know," he said, and then turned his gaze back to George while he continued speaking to me. "Go to the kitchen and look in the cabinet above and just to the right of the sink. There should be two bottles - a sobering elixir in a blue bottle, and a hang-over potion in a red bottle. Bring those and a glass while I get him into bed."

I nodded and then made my way to the kitchen. Just like he'd said, there were two bottles, identical in shape and size though one was a vibrant red and the other a soothing blue. The label on the blue bottle, the sobering elixir, claimed to break down and eliminate alcohol in the blood stream, while the label on the red bottle, the hangover potion, claimed to prevent the onset of headache, sensitivity to light and sound, and nausea caused by excessive alcohol consumption. Both bottles were almost full, hopefully indicating that they weren't needed very often. I grabbed them and a glass, and made my way to George's room.

When I walked in, George was already lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while Fred finished tugging off his twin's trousers, leaving George in a white undershirt and a pair of boxers.

"Thanks," Fred said as I handed him the supplies he'd asked for. The fact that he made no jokes or inappropriate remarks about George's state of undress was a testament to his concern for his brother. Fred went to sit on the edge of the bed near George's head and helped him drink down a small glassful of liquid from each bottle, and then turned to look at me again.

"Where'd you find him?"

"The Leaky Cauldron."

"And he was drinking alone?" he asked, his voice serious.

"Not exactly," I said slowly, letting my gaze drop to the floor. "Katie Bell was with him."

"Would you two stop talking about me like I'm not here? I'm drunk, not deaf." George said, his words still slurred but already clearer than they had been earlier. "And yes, Fred, Katie was there. She just showed up and started throwing herself at me like she always does. No big deal."

No big deal? "_No big deal_!?" My outburst made Fred jump and George covered his ear, grimacing at the volume of my voice. Apparently the hang-over potion hadn't kicked in yet. I didn't really care about that at the moment, though. "Tom said he overheard Katie trying to talk you into getting a room and that's _no big deal_!?"

Fred looked back and forth between George and me for a moment. "But, of course, he _didn't_ get a room, right?" he said, trying to placate me and defend his twin at the same time.

"Course not," George said, sounding insulted. "There isn't enough fire-whiskey in the world to get me drunk enough for _that_." Fred looked relieved and gave me a gentle _See-I-told-you-so_ look. But that look vanished when George started talking again. "'s'not my fault, though, if she's still in love with me. Once you've been with a Weasley twin, it's nearly impossible to move on." George laughed softly to himself, completely oblivious to the mist forming in my eyes.

"George..." Fred warned.

"She knows that I treated her like a princess _and_ I'm the best shag she ever had. That Hufflepuff bloke she cheated on me with couldn't satisfy her like I--"

"_George_."

"_What_?" George said, clearly annoyed by Fred's interruptions.

"I mean this in the most loving way possible, dear brother, but you really need to shut it."

I roughly wiped away the one stray tear that managed to escape, and I sniffled softly, the sound causing both boys to look at me. Fred was frowning deeply and looking truly apologetic for George's hurtful, drunken ramblings, but George just smiled.

"Hey, Granger," he said sweetly, like he'd completely forgotten that I was in the room, and he slowly lifted his head from his pillow to look at me better. "Are you wearing my shirt? Sweet Merlin, you look sexy in my clothes." He grinned but, evidently, too much strength was required to hold his head up so he let it drop back again with a quiet groan.

"I'm going back to the burrow," I said, more to Fred than to George, and then started to leave.

"Hermione, wait," Fred called as he ran after me, grabbing me before I disapparated. "Please don't be angry with him."

I allowed him to turn me back towards him but I was far too tired, too angry, disappointed, and too hurt to engage in a long, drawn out conversation. "I just want to go to bed," I said sadly, staring at the floor. It wasn't really true, of course. I knew I wouldn't be getting any sleep after everything that had happened that night, but I really, really just wanted to be somewhere else right then.

"Yeah. Of course." Fred rubbed the back of his neck, staring at me with a nervous, worried expression. "But promise me you'll come back tomorrow morning and talk to him. I know, as soon as he's sober he's going to start kicking himself for all the stupid things he just said. Please don't make him suffer?" Fred finished with a tiny, hopeful grin.

George and I were getting married in less than seven days; I couldn't just stop speaking to him, especially when I knew that he'd only said the things he did because he was drunk, and he was only drunk because he'd been in pain. I sighed. "I promise I'll be here." I gave him a small smile of my own. "But I might make him suffer just a _little_ bit for making me listen to him talking about shagging Katie..."

"Fair enough," he said, now grinning. "Night, Hermione."

"Good night, Fred." And then I apparated back to the burrow.

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Again, the next chapter probably won't be up until next week sometime (I'm so sorry!) but I will let you in on a little secret... the next chapter is going to be a bit special... For weeks now I've had this particular scene of the twins in my head, but, since Hermione has just left the twins alone to go back to the burrow, she isn't around to witness any of it. SO... the next chapter (and the next chapter only!) is going to be told from Fred's point of view. For those of you who love getting a glimpse of the bond between the twins, this next chapter will be for you! :)

Thanks for the fantastic reviews. You're all so lovely and kind :D


	14. Chapter 13 George's Nightmare

Thanks for being patient with me while my time was otherwise occupied this past weekend! :)

I want to preface this chapter by saying: I am a big fan of the bond between Fred and George, and I like to imagine that they hold quite the soft spot for each other. I've already been asked what I meant when I referred to their "bond" in my last update, so I just want to say right now that you won't find me writing any twincest hanky-panky. :P So, just rest easy and enjoy the playful, adorably sweet interactions between Fred and George. (Well, _I_ think they're adorably sweet, anyways.. I suppose I'll have to wait until I get your reviews to let me know if I actually succeeded in portraying them that way) :D But, again, just to be clear - nothing inappropriate goes down between Gred and Forge.

**PhoenixPhlames** - there is a tiny reference in here to your Human Element story. Let's see if you can find it! Hehe :P (Hint: it's nothing major.. but something that I found vastly amusing towards the beginning of your story.)

I hope you all enjoy this chapter.. I'm not sure it turned out quite the way I wanted it to, but I still think this may be my very favorite so far. But, um.. remember the saying that it always gets worse before it gets better?... Yeah... ;)

Please forgive any typos you find.

Still don't own anything.

So, here goes! A special, one-time-only chapter from Fred Weasley's POV :D

* * *

As soon as Hermione was gone, I went to check in on George, again. He was still lying on his bed, though he had managed to partially find his way under the covers and was now lying on his side, snoring very softly against his pillow. I made my way to him, gently disentangled the blanket from his legs and pulled it up to his shoulder. He never stirred and, given how drunk he'd been, I reckoned he'd be totally out of it until the next morning, so I turned out the lights and made my way back to my own bedroom, leaving my twin to slumber peacefully while he could. I had a feeling that Hermione was going to let him have it for the way he'd acted and, remembering how she used to go off on us for testing out our products on the younger students at school, I certainly didn't envy him.

George and I had always rather enjoyed our run-ins with the feisty, bushy-haired prefect, but she was certainly no ray of sunshine when she was angry, and now that George had gone and done something to personally hurt her? I shuddered to think of the long-winded, shrilly-delivered lecture that he would likely face in the morning. Or, perhaps, if her reaction tonight had been any indication of what was in store, she might just look at him with tears in those big, pretty brown eyes of hers and tell him how deeply disappointed she is, and for George, the poor love-sick lad, that would probably be a far worse punishment. Yep - it looked as if Georgie would be in for a rough morning. And I couldn't decide if he deserved it or not. On the one hand, it was very stupid of him to go get so completely plastered by himself. On the other hand, something had clearly happened to George to make him _want_ to go get so completely plastered by himself. He was hurting over something.

I sighed. Not bothering to turn on the light in my room, I pulled off my jeans and socks and collapsed onto my own bed, folding my arms behind me to assist the pillow in cradling my head, but with a string of anxious thoughts constantly looping through my mind, I knew that sleep wouldn't be finding me any time soon. Staring at the dark ceiling, I sighed again. There was no way I could ignore it any longer; something was definitely wrong with my twin. The once high-spirited, cheerful bloke, whom I'd always proudly referred to as my other half, was now something like a shadow of his former self. I roughly rubbed my face with the palms of my hands as I began to check off a mental list of the changes I'd noticed in George's behavior since the night of the final battle, but my thoughts were interrupted by a soft thud coming from the room across the hall - George's room. I removed my hands from my face, pushing myself up onto my elbows and listening intently, and after a brief pause, I heard quiet footsteps moving down the hall, and George's shadowy figure was standing in my doorframe just a second later.

"George? You alright?"

He didn't respond but, as he made his way into my room, I deducted that the sobering potion must have done it's job because his steps were much more confident and well-balanced than they'd been earlier. Still, he stumbled slightly when his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and it was only then, when he reached out to steady himself, that I noticed he had his pillow tucked under one arm.

"George?" I asked again when he continued to stand there.

"Move over," he said, his now impeccably clear words indicating that he was, indeed, sober, and then he began to climb onto the mattress.

"What?" I laughed a little but then quickly scooted over, rolling onto my side and just narrowly avoiding being crushed as George let his body drop onto the bed. "What're you doing?"

George slipped his legs under the blankets and then positioned his pillow, fluffing and then flattening it before turning on his side and lying down. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

Our faces, though supported by our own pillows, were mere inches apart and there was just enough light in the room to allow me to see my twin. George's eyes, identical to my own, stared back at me like a living mirror, only differing in the slightly-off rhythm of our blinking. A slow grin spread across my lips and George perfectly imitated the smile. I made a goofy face, sticking my tongue out to one side, and George did the same. I reached a hand out, ruffling the ginger hair on top of George's head, while an identical hand came up to ruffle the identical hair on my head for a second before we each pulled back, the action still perfectly mirrored. I let out a warm, amused chuckle as I let my hand fall back to the mattress.

"Don't you think we're a bit big to be sleeping in the same bed?" I asked, a gentle humor still evident in my voice. George must not have noticed it, though, because I watched as the lingering smile slipped from his face.

"Um. I just... I didn't..." he stumbled over his words, sounding dejected and maybe even a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I suppose." George sighed and the mattress bounced slightly as he began to get up.

"Oh, come off it, Georgie," I said, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him back down, feeling mildly annoyed that he would think I'd turn him away when he was so obviously seeking comfort. "You really think I'm kicking you out? I just meant that we're literally too big for this bed."

George settled back against his pillow and laughed softly before saying, "The bed's _twin_-sized, isn't it?"

I snorted. "Good one. But I'm not sure they meant that _literally_, mate." To prove my point, I tried to move my legs to a more comfortable position and only succeeded in kicking George in the shin.

He hissed in pain. "_Ow_. Watch it!"

"I told you we don't fit," I said, trying not to laugh. I pulled myself up and reached across George, fumbling in the darkness for my wand which was somewhere on my bedside table.

"_Fred_." George's voice was muffled as I leaned over him. "Ger'off me!"

Grinning to myself, I purposely (but gently) pressed my elbow into his cheek. "Sorry? What was that?" I had my wand in my hand now, but was thoroughly enjoying irritating my brother. It was for his own good, really; if he was busy being annoyed with me, he couldn't be thinking about whatever it was that had him so down.

I began to pull back, retreating to my side of the bed, but at the last moment I let myself fall on top of him rather roughly, and I couldn't help but laugh at George as our ribs connected, forcing the air out of his lungs in a loud, "Oof." I finally rolled away from him just as he started grumbling and trying to push me off, and then, still laughing, I touched the tip of my wand to the mattress and muttered the incantation to make the bed wider. I could feel the vibrations beneath me as the mattress and frame stretched, and there was a rough sound of wood sliding against wood as the bed grew, forcing the little bedside table out of its way.

I turned to George who was a little further away than he'd been a moment earlier and gave him an innocent smile. "See? Now we won't be kicking and elbowing each other all night."

I began to reach back over George to return my wand to the table, but he yanked it from my hand and placed it on the table himself, mumbling something about not wanting another bruised rib. I laughed again as I repositioned my pillow and laid back down on the bed.

"But, I'm warning you, Georgie," I said in a more serious-sounding tone. "If you start dreaming about being in bed with Granger and you start getting fresh, I'll hex your arse out of here faster than you can say Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs." There was a short pause, during which I could see George raise one eyebrow at me, prompting me to quickly add, "or, you know, a bit faster than that."

George snorted and I chuckled, and then we both fell silent and stayed that way for several long minutes. I could see that George's eyes were closed, but I could tell from the sound of his breathing that he was still awake.

"George?"

"Yeah?"

_No need to beat around the bush,_ I told myself. "Do you want to talk about it?"

There was a long pause and I watched as my twin slowly opened his eyes to look at me. "Do I want to talk about what?"

"Knitting patterns," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" I added, more gently.

George stared at me, blinking a few times before speaking. "Nothing's bothering me."

"Right," I scoffed. "So what are you doing in my bed, again?" We never shared a bed unless one of us was _really_ upset about something. George knew that as well as I did.

"Can't I just want to be close to you, Freddie?" George said in a suddenly syrupy sweet voice as he began to wiggle towards me.

"Ha." I put a hand to his chest, firmly preventing him from pulling me in for a cuddle. "_No_."

George sighed dramatically and flopped back onto his side of the bed. "Oh, you wound me, brother," he said, and then started laughing.

I rolled my eyes at the dark ceiling. "Come on, George. Don't play with me. I'm worried about you."

George sighed again, though this time it sounded much more serious and exhausted. "There's nothing for you to worry about, Fred. I'm fine."

"Really," I said, dryly, propping myself up on my elbow to get a better look at him. "Then explain to me, please, why someone who rarely drinks suddenly felt the need to go drain the Leaky Cauldron's stores of fire-whiskey all by himself."

George didn't answer.

"And why would you put yourself in a compromising situation with your ex-girlfriend and risk what you're trying to build with Hermione? You're typically a bit smarter than that, Georgie."

At this turn in the conversation, he groaned, reaching up to cover his face with his hands. "I can't believe I was such a prat."

Unfortunately, I couldn't disagree with him. "You realize you started talking, right in front of Granger, about how Katie is still in love with you because you were the '_best shag she ever had,_' right?"

"Yes, thanks," George grumbled against his palms. "That sobering potion does a _smashing_ job of un-fogging drunken memories."

I reached out and pulled George's hands away from his face and waited for him to look at me before I spoke again. "You really hurt her."

George sighed and then turned his head to stare up at the ceiling. "You think I don't know that?"

I stayed silent for a moment, carefully considering my next words before finally deciding that George and I had always been completely honest with each other about _everything_, and I wasn't about to be the one to change that. Still, I tried to speak as gently as possible and I took great care in making sure that I didn't sound accusatory when I voiced my thoughts. "You hurt me, as well."

George's head tilted towards me again and our identical eyes stayed locked as he slowly rolled his entire body onto his side to face me. "What?"

"Tonight, after the wedding," I started to explain. "One minute everything was fine and the next you're staring at me like you don't even _recognize_ me." I paused, hearing a slight hitch in George's breath. "_You_ pushed _me_ away," I continued, my words slow and deliberate, like I was still trying to convince myself that it had really happened. "Why would you do that?"

George shook his head, never breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry."

"I don't need an apology, you git. I just want you to tell me what's going on."

George continued to look at me for several seconds, and I was surprised and pained to see his eyes tearing up. He finally opened his mouth to speak, only to immediately shut it again without ever making a single sound, and then he rolled over onto his other side, turning his back to me and effectively putting an end to the conversation. I just laid there, staring at his back and not knowing whether to feel angry or hurt or even more concerned by his actions.

"Fred?" George asked, his voice low and rough with choked-back emotion.

"Yeah?"

There was a long pause and I held my breath, waiting and hoping that George was finally going to let me in on the secret of why he'd been acting so unlike himself lately.

"You know I love you," he said, and then fell totally silent again.

I let the air out of my lungs and my closed my eyes, fighting back the surge of disappointment I was feeling. Not that I didn't appreciate the sentiment, because I did. It just wasn't the confession I'd been hoping for. "I know. Love you back, George."

******

My eyes popped open as I was jolted awake and I laid there for a moment, waiting for my brain to catch up and explain what had startled me from my sleep, but everything was still and quiet. Then, just as my eyes began to drift shut again, the mattress shook beneath me.

"_Nooo,_" came a loud, broken wail from beside me.

I sprang up in the bed, turning to look down at my twin who was thrashing about, moaning and shouting, though still completely asleep. When I realized he was only having a nightmare, my muscles relaxed considerably, and I reached over, grabbing George by the shoulders and shaking him gently. I knew he'd been having nightmares since the night of the final battle; I heard him almost every night through the thin walls in our flat. I still had them myself, occasionally. It was probably safe to assume that we _all_ still had them.

"George," I whispered.

He whimpered, jerking his head to the side, but still didn't wake up.

"Come on, George."

"Fred," George managed to choke out, though he _still_ didn't wake. A pitiful, weeping noise escaped him, and my throat constricted painfully at the sound of it.

Grasping his shoulders more firmly, I tried again. "_George_. Wake _up_."

And he did. His eyes shot open, and he struggled to control his heavy, labored breathing while his gaze darted wildly around the room before finally focusing on me. "Fr-Fred?" he asked, panting.

I let out a relieved sigh and then nodded at him before letting myself fall back onto the bed. I laughed breathlessly. "You scared the bloody hel-"

My words were cut off as George suddenly rolled over and my body tensed in surprise as he tightly wrapped an arm around my midsection and laid his head on my chest. He scooted down just a bit, repositioning himself so that his good ear was pressed firmly against the center of my ribcage, just above my heart. I was too afraid to even speak and George just stayed there, perfectly still for a moment, simply listening to the hard and steady pounding in my chest...

And then he sobbed. It was a shattered, gut-wrenching sob, that immediately caused a sensation like sharp, prickling ice to spread throughout my entire body, and the feeling only intensified as I felt my shirt becoming damp with my twin's tears. I attempted to sit up, but this only made George cry harder and he tightened his arm around me, keeping me pinned in place.

"G-Georgie?" My voice trembled and I struggled in vain to hold back my own tears.

My twin sounded completely and utterly heartbroken, which I supposed was only natural, because that was exactly the way I felt as I laid there and listened to him.

* * *

Ahhh! :( So sorry to do that to you guys! I'm not sure if y'all were as depressed by this chapter as I was, but man, it was a bummer to write! To get myself in the right mindset for that last scene, I watched these two specific Fred/George vids on youtube which never fail to make me cry and feel miserable over Fred's death and George's loss of his twin.. I typically refrain from watching those types of videos (since I'm in complete denial and will continue to believe that Fred somehow lived..) but I allowed myself to watch them and wallow in despair so I could write this chapter. I'm not usually affected by my own stories but I was having a hard time not tearing up at the end of this chapter. :(

Sooo... let's all remember - happy endings are coming!! Promise, promise, promise. :D

And, please review. It makes me happy :D And if you do review, please keep in mind that I'm promising to leave you happy at the end! Don't hate me after this chapter, please :( Hehe.


	15. Chapter 14 Safe

Yikes. Sorry for such a long delay! I won't make excuses.. I just had a really hard time getting motivated/inspired and, though I really was working on this story, I kept getting stuck.

Thank you, **PhoenixPhlames**, for helping me work through some of my story issues so I could get this posted! :D

Okay, so I know I said that the last chapter was a "one-time-only" deal.. but.. since I was having such a hard time getting inspired and, since I had such fun writing the last chapter, I decided to do one more twin chapter. Since we've heard from Fred already, I figured it was only fair to hear from George :) Next chapter, we'll be back to Hermione and we'll stick with her POV until the conclusion of the story, which I'm sad to say, is not all that far away! (Another 5-6 chapters or so...)

I don't own anything and I'm not making a profit. Don't sue me, please.

As always, please forgive any typos you find.

And... here's George! Hope you all enjoy :)

* * *

I'm not sure how long we laid there, my arm draped across my twin's stomach, my ear pressed to his chest as I sought to hear the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat, but my eyes eventually dried and my breathing returned to normal... And I began to curse myself for coming apart the way I had.

How in Merlin's name was I going to explain to Fred what just happened? The last time he'd seen me cry was the summer when we were seven years old. Mum had instructed us to de-gnome the garden so, naturally, we tricked a five-year-old Ron into doing it for us while we put our energy and efforts into something much more useful (namely, searching Percy's room for his diary.) Unfortunately, it wasn't long before Ron ran crying to mum, sporting a right nasty gnome-bite on his leg, and mum, more furious than I'd ever seen her, actually threatened to separate Fred and me for the rest of the summer. Looking back, she must have known there was no way she could do such a thing, (Fred and I would have found a way to be back together by supper) but I'd believed her at the time, and, after seven years of doing quite literally _everything_ with Fred, the thought of being without him was slightly traumatic. Of course, after I'd burst into tears, Fred had wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders and calmly informed our mother that she had another thing coming if she thought he was going to be removed from my side. Instead of being angered even further (as I'd anticipated), Mum's expression had actually softened at Fred's declaration and she fanned away the emotional mist that was forming in her eyes and left the room muttering something to herself about how it did her heart good to see how we looked out for each other. Fickle woman.

A soft sniffle drew me from my thoughts, and I lifted my head from my twin's chest and turned so that I could look up at his face. Fred had long since given up on trying to get me to talk, choosing instead to lie there in silence, both hands woven into my hair and his fingertips lightly rubbing against my scalp as he attempted to provide me with some sense of comfort, but now, as I looked at him, I could see a glistening trail running from the outside corners of his eyes, disappearing into the hair at his temples. He'd been much quieter about it, but he'd been crying, too.

Heaving a sigh, I pushed myself off of my twin and crawled back up to the pillow on my side of the bed, uncomfortably aware of Fred's gaze locked on my face as I moved. I settled myself onto the pillow, and Fred and I continued to stare at each other, our identical brown eyes conveying matching emotions of worry and confusion and maybe even the slightest bit of discomfort.

After several silent seconds, Fred cleared his throat, the sound deep and rough and masculine; a complete contrast from the frightened, boyish expression on his face. "That must have been some nightmare."

I responded with a shaky smile and a quiet, nervous laugh. I couldn't remember ever feeling so awkward around my twin.

"It was about me, wasn't it?" Fred asked, obviously determined to break the strange tension between us with his remarkable aptitude for bluntness. "Something happened to me in your dream."

Fred and I had always impressed others with our uncanny ability to seemingly read each other's thoughts, but the accuracy of his statement surprised even me. "What? What makes you say that?"

"You said my name."

"I..." I let my voice trail off, furrowing my brow as I contemplated what he'd said. I didn't think I'd ever been one to talk in my sleep. "I did?"

Fred nodded. "Tell me about it. Might make you feel better."

There was a quick flash of images in my mind: Fred's face smiling at me, a blinding burst of light from the explosion, and then my brother's body lying limp and lifeless in the midst of the rocky rubble. My throat tightened and when I tried to swallow, it was uncomfortable and loud. Fred was still watching me, waiting for me to say something and I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him to reassure myself that he was really there, and then I opened my eyes to look at him again. Not trusting myself to speak, I shook my head in response to his request.

Fred sighed, forcing a huff of air out through his nose. "You want to fill me in on when, exactly, we decided to start keeping things from each other?" When I remained silent, he frowned, causing deep creases to form around his mouth and in between his brows. "_Talk to me_," he said, and when several seconds passed and I still didn't answer him, his eyes darkened, flickering with anger. "Dammit, George." He clenched his jaw and stared at me, silent and seething.

I felt my eyes beginning to water again. I couldn't handle him being angry at me. Not right now, with the memory of his death still so fresh and vivid in my mind. I reached out, letting my hand find his, and I linked our pinky fingers together in an intimate display of affection that we'd shared since we were children. "Please, Fred..."

Fred let out a deep breath as his gaze settled on our locked pinkies. He was still frowning slightly, but his expression was much softer. "I just want to help you, you git."

The corner of my mouth twitched as I fought the urge to smile. "Yeah, I know."

He looked up, his gaze finding mine again. "Y'know what the scariest moment of my life was?"

I saw the perfect opportunity to lighten the mood, and I ran with it, my mouth cracking into grin. "That night when mum and dad forgot to put the silencing charm up around their bedroom?"

"Ah," Fred said, grimacing with disgust. "Most unpleasant night, that was."

"Not quite as uncomfortable as facing them at the breakfast table the next morning, though," I reminded him.

Fred shook his head to himself as he remembered. "We couldn't look mum in the eye for weeks after that--"

"--which only made her more suspicious of us than usual--"

"--but better her thinking we were up to something than having to admit that we heard her and dad--"

"--going at it--"

"--for _three hours_," we finished together.

I laughed and then Fred gave me a small smile, squeezing my pinky with his in a nonverbal reassurance that he wasn't angry anymore.

"But, no," he said in a more serious tone, "as terrifying and traumatic as that was, that's not what I was referring to."

"Alright, then..." My words were slow and cautious. "What was the scariest moment of your life?" I wanted to know what he had to say, but I was hesitant to let go of the light-hearted exchange we'd been engaged in.

"The night we all disguised ourselves as Harry to escort him to the burrow," Fred began.

"Ah, yes," I said, before he could continue. "You were afraid something would go wrong and you'd be stuck looking like him forev--"

"George," Fred said in a firm voice, interrupting my attempts to keep the conversation upbeat and playful.

"Sorry."

"When we got back, they told dad and me that you'd been hit with a curse, and at first they wouldn't let us in the house because they wanted to make sure we were really who we said we were..." There was a pause and a slight hitch in Fred's breath before he continued. "And then I saw blood on the ground leading up to the door - and I _knew_ it was yours - and all I could think was that you were in there," Fred's voice dropped to just a whisper and then he added, "_dying_. Without _me_."

I took a deep breath as I recalled the events of that night. "You were the first person I saw when I came 'round, and you were so pale that I'd have thought that _you_ were the one who'd suffered substantial blood loss." I tried to make my words take on a joking tone, but my voice was just as low and shaky as my twin's was.

Fred gave me a weak smile. "It was the first time I'd ever realized I could lose you, and I've never felt anything more awful in my entire life, George." His eyes were glistening by the time he finished speaking.

And there it was - the reason why I could never tell Fred what really happened the night of the final battle. I knew that we'd almost been torn apart; I knew that I'd almost lost the relationship that had always been the best and most important part of my life, and because of that knowledge, I'd experienced a pain so deep, so intense, that it brought to mind words like "devastating" and "crushing" and "crippling", though none of those labels were ever strong enough to adequately describe the wound that had burst open in my heart the moment I saw my twin's dead body. I'd rather suffer through that pain alone every day for the rest of my life, than let Fred have even a taste of it. I knew my twin. I knew his courage, his loyalty to his family, his ability to laugh and charm his way out of any situation, but I also knew his greatest weakness. I knew that if there was one thing that could have Fred Weasley reduced to tears and shaky whispers,_ I_ was it. I couldn't tell him that we'd almost lost each other. I didn't want him to feel what I felt.

"Fred," I said, gently tightening my grip on his smallest finger, "why are you telling me all this?"

"Surely you don't need me to come right out and say it," he said, rolling his eyes in a disbelieving fashion before adding "Forgotten how to read me, have you?" in a very dry tone. I was thankful to see that the tears had dried from his eyes.

"You were afraid that I felt weak after coming apart in front of you, so you were showing me that you get scared, too." I gave him a smug smile, knowing that I'd proved that I was indeed still capable of reading him. "Well, thanks for that, brother dearest, but it's a bit difficult not to feel like a bit of a prat after blubbering into your shirt the way I did."

"Yeah..." Fred paused, glancing down at the wet spot still visible on his shirt. "That was..."

"Awkward?"

"Well, I was going to say _different_, but yeah, now that you mention it. 'Awkward' describes it quite nicely." There was an amused edge to Fred's tone as he spoke, and I released his pinky, using both hands to shove playfully but forcefully at his chest. He grinned and, feeling perfectly content to let that be the last image in my mind before falling asleep, I positioned myself against the pillow and closed my eyes.

"George?"

"Yes, Fred?"

"You can cry and snot on my shirt anytime you need to."

I snorted. "Likewise." There was a long pause and I could feel my body relaxing... drifting off...

"Georgie?"

"Mm?"

"You know you're safe with me, right?"

I opened my eyes again and looked at my twin who was staring at me with a tender expression on his face. "'Course, Freddie." I paused and then added, "You big softy," giving him a grin and a slow wink before letting my eyes flutter shut again.

Fred huffed indignantly. "You throw yourself at _me_ and cry all over _me_ and somehow _I'm_ the softy..." Fred's voice trailed off into a string of unintelligible mumbles, and I laughed quietly to myself. "Hey, George?"

"_What_, Fred?" I was so thankful that he was there, perfectly alive and obviously eager and able to carry on a conversation with me, but I _was_ getting rather sleepy.

"I'm safe with you, too, right?"

"What?" I asked, frowning with my eyes still closed. "Yes, of course, you are."

There was a short pause. "So, you're not going to get mad if I tell you that I saw Granger naked tonight?"

My eyes popped open. "_What_?"

Fred was laughing at what was surely a most shocked expression on my face. "Well, technically, she was wrapped up in your blanket, so I didn't really get to see anything..."

I let out a relieved sigh for Hermione's sake. I knew how easy it was to embarrass her, and while I typically found it quite fun to make her uncomfortable, I'd certainly never want her to be humiliated in that way.

"Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but _why_ was there a naked Hermione wrapped up in my blanket? And why were _you_ with her?"

"We'd just gotten back from the wedding, and we both went to change-_i__n different rooms_-" Fred added the last bit quickly when he caught the raised eyebrow I was giving him, "but when I walked by your door, I heard her crying and I thought something was wrong so I went in to check on her."

"And?"

"And, I found her sitting on your bed, wrapped up in your blanket, and she'd definitely been crying. She looked so pitiful that I couldn't even enjoy myself when I started trying to make inappropriate comments--"

Something suddenly dawned on me. "Oh no..."

"Yeah, you know the situation is bad if I'm too upset to flirt properly," Fred said, oblivious to the scared look on my face.

"That's not quite what I meant," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "Could Hermione not find her clothes?"

Fred shook his head. "They were gone. I swear I helped her look but they just weren't there."

I cupped my face in my hands. "Ohh."

"George." I could practically hear the smile in Fred's voice. "Did you _misplace_ Hermione's clothes in the hopes that you could see her without them?" he finished in a mockingly accusatory manner.

I lowered my hands again and turned to glare at my twin. "I am not, have never been, and will never be, that desperate to get a girl naked."

Fred just laughed. "Alright, then. So where did they go? You obviously have an idea."

"I can't believe this. Like Hermione really needs another reason to be angry with me..."

"Spill it, Georgie."

I sighed. "You remember that night, a few months after we moved in, when you and Angelina were still doing that annoying on-again-off-again thing, and you brought her back here for what you fondly refer to as the 'goodbye-shag'?"

Fred looked rather put out with my less-than-kind description of his relationship with his ex-girlfriend, but he nodded.

"And the next day mum came by and she was feeling all sentimental and nostalgic and decided to do our laundry for us--"

"--only to find Angelina's knickers under my bed," Fred said, wincing as he remembered.

"Exactly. And, you remember the awful lecture that she gave both of us about being men of integrity and treating women with respect and all that?"

"Yes, yes." Fred urged me on by waving an impatient hand through the air, clearly not wanting to recall that particularly uncomfortable conversation with our mother. "But what's all that got to do with Hermione's clothes?"

"Well, I wanted to make sure that nothing like that happened in the future so..."

"_So_?"

"You know that muggle garden gnome that dad gave us as a flat-warming gift?"

"Yeah," he said, the word rising in pitch at the end like a question.

"I sort of charmed it to recognize female undergarments."

Fred let out a loud, barking laugh. "You WHAT?"

I rolled my eyes. Typically, I'd have been laughing with him, but I was sure that Hermione wouldn't find it amusing when I tried to explain it to her the next day. "If there's a bra or a pair of knickers left lying around for more than 20 minutes, the garden gnome picks them up and hides them out of sight. You know, away from nosy mums."

Fred's face had slowly formed an expression of awe, but then he furrowed his brow and frowned at me. "Why didn't I know about this?"

"Because, while I wanted to save you from mum's wrath, I _didn't_ want you to take it as an invitation to start bringing girls home all the time. I--"

"Aw," Fred interrupted. "Were you jealous, Georgie? You know there's no girl who could ever take your place." Fred reached out and patted my cheek, winking at me as he pulled back.

I pursed my lips in annoyance. "Very comforting, brother. But, I'll have you know that you took a page from mum and dad's book that night and forgot to put up your own silencing charm and I had to listen to the two of you for a good 15 minutes before I remembered how to do the reverse spell to keep sound _out _of my room."

"Really?" Fred's eyes were wide like he might have been a little embarrassed. "Why didn't you come bang on the door or something?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "And risk getting my head snapped off by Angelina for interrupting?"

"Point taken," Fred said with a grin. "Alright, I reckon I'll forgive you for not telling me about it sooner. But I can't believe I never thought of that. Charming the gnome to pick up girls' knickers... it's _brilliant_."

I let out a pathetic, humorless laugh. "What do you reckon the odds are of me convincing Granger of that?"

"Oh," Fred groaned as he wrapped a comforting arm around me. "Not good, Georgie. Not good."

* * *

Ahhh, I LOVE writing about the twins. I've pretty much decided that if I do another fan-fic, it's going to be more twin-centric.. I just LOVE their relationship and it's so much fun to write about! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Thanks, as always for the reviews! I try to respond personally to all the reviews I get and I don't want the anon. reviewers to feel left out, so to each and every one of you who don't have an account but have still taken the time to review, THANK YOU! You are awesome! :D

But more reviews would be great! They make me happy.

And, I'm beginning to get more comments wondering when Fred will find out the truth.. so, just rest assured, that I won't leave Freddie in the dark forever ;)


	16. Chapter 15 Bruises and Angry Words

Yay! I have a longer update for you guys this time :)

As usual, I don't own the characters.. and please over look any typos I may have missed.

I hope we all enjoyed our time with the twins... ;) but back to Hermione, now! :D Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, the bright sunlight coming through the window suggested that I'd slept much later than usual; even Ginny was already up, her bed neatly made and empty. I rubbed my eyes, yawned, and stretched my arms high over my head as I attempted to bring my body fully awake. To say I'd had a poor night's sleep would be quite an understatement. I laid there for a while longer, basking in the warmth of my bed, and enjoying the silence of the house, a rare luxury at the Weasley home.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were spending the day with Percy, Penelope Clearwater and her family, finalizing the plans for their wedding which would take place in just 2 weeks, while Ginny and Harry were out looking at wedding bands. Ginny and Harry's wedding wouldn't take place until the following summer, of course, seeing that she still had one year of schooling left to complete, but, with all the weddings she'd been to in the last two and a half weeks, the girl had wedding dresses and flowers and cakes on the brain.

I was just thankful to have the house to myself. I didn't exactly feel like being fawned over by Mrs. Weasley, who believed I'd been ill the day before, and I didn't feel like listening to Ginny asking embarrassing questions about why I'd been so late getting home and if George had acted as my personal healer for the evening.

With a sigh, I threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. I pulled George's shirt out from the place where I'd kept it under my pillow the night before (where I could easily touch it, but where it would be out of Ginny's sight) and I folded it up, placing it with his boxers in the bottom drawer of Ginny's dresser where I kept my things. Slowly, I gathered some clean clothes, and slowly, I made my way to the bathroom for a nice, long shower. My feet dragged as I walked down the hall, and if I'd been in the mood for laughing, I would have laughed at my determined sluggishness. I really didn't want to face George. I knew I'd promised Fred that I would, and I _did_ want to make sure that George was okay, but my stomach wound itself into a nervous knot every time I imagined seeing him.

Once inside the bathroom, I locked the door, hung my clean change of clothes on the small, metal wall-hook, and turned the shower on full blast, watching the steam fill the room as the water warmed up. I quickly undressed and stepped under the spray, letting out a loud hum of pleasure at the feel of the hot water against my skin. I'd wanted a shower so badly when I'd gotten home the night before, but I'd been afraid of waking the other occupants of the house, so I'd settled for casting a few cleansing spells on myself, concentrating on the places where those men had grabbed me... but a cleansing spell was certainly no substitute for hot water, soap, and a rough washcloth.

After my shower, I took my time getting dressed, forced myself to eat a piece of toast even though I wasn't hungry, and then I was out of things to do - out of excuses to stall and put off seeing George.

So, I took a deep breath, gathered my courage, and apparated.

Directly _outside_ the door to the twins' flat. I just didn't feel comfortable apparating directly into the living room now, and I frowned to myself as I realized that whatever trust and bond George and I had been building, the events of last night had certainly shaken it. I raised my hand to knock, and then dropped it without making contact with the door. I raised my hand again, only to chicken out, again.

"For goodness' sakes," I whispered harshly to myself. "Get ahold of yourself, Hermione. If you're brave enough to take on and defeat dark wizards, you can certainly knock on a stupid door--"

"Granger?" came a voice from somewhere below me. I looked out over the landing and saw Fred staring up at me from the bottom of the stairs, apparently having been down in the shop. "What're you doing out here?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow as he began the ascent towards me.

"I'm here to see George," I replied in a very polite but formal tone.

"I see," Fred said, just as stiffly, but then as he stepped past me, putting one hand on the doorknob and pushing open the door, he placed the other hand on his chest and screwed his face up into a very dramatically pained expression. "Why is it that you never come by just to see _me_? I _am_ the better looking twin, you know."

I followed him inside the flat, glaring at him as he tried not to smile. "Where is he?" I asked, not at all in the mood for games.

Fred frowned at his failed attempt to lighten me up. "His room, I suppose."

I began to march down the hallway, but stopped when I heard a muffled voice coming from George's room, the sound immediately followed by a response from George himself. I turned back to Fred, my brows knitted as I looked at him, expecting him to explain. "Who is he talking to? Who else is here?"

"Dunno," Fred said and shrugged his shoulders, looking sincerely confused. "George was still in the shower when I left to go downstairs."

Again I heard the other voice, speaking so low and so quickly that I couldn't tell who it was or what they were saying. But I definitely heard George's reply.

"She did _what_!?" he shouted.

Fred and I exchanged a brief, nervous glance before he swiftly strode past me and pounded a fist upon the surface of the closed door. "George? You alright, mate?"

"Just a minute, Fred," came George's response.

"Granger's here," Fred said, obviously hoping that announcing my presence would convince George to open up.

There was a slight pause, during which I could hear an even less audible mumbling of words being spoken by someone on the other side of the door, and then there was a faint, short-lived buzzing sound, followed by complete and total silence.

I opened my mouth to speak without ever taking my eyes off the door. "Did he just--"

"--put up a silencing charm?" Fred, also still staring at the door, finished for me. "Yeah."

"Why would he--"

"I don't know," Fred interrupted. I turned to look at him and found a serious, concerned expression on his face. "Come on," he said, turning towards me, "we'll go wait for him in the living room."

Fred led the way down the hall and back into the living room where he took a seat on the couch, and I reluctantly followed, settling myself next to him on the sofa. "I can't believe him..." I said, more to myself than to Fred, feeling annoyed that I'd made an attempt to come clear the air with George and he was apparently too busy to bother.

Fred looked up, frowning at me. "Look, I know George acted stupid last night and you have every right to be angry at him but--"

I held out a hand, implying that he stop trying to explain. "I don't want to hear it. I understand that you're always going to take his side on everything but--"

"It's not like that!" Fred insisted, looking slightly offended. "Okay, maybe it's a _bit_ like that," he added with a small smile when he saw the disbelieving look I was giving him. "He's _George_. I could never not take his side, but that doesn't mean that I approve of him going out and getting piss-drunk all alone the way he did."

I gasped in mock surprise. "Fred Weasley, actually disapproving of his twin's unruly behavior?"

Fred pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, glaring at me as if I'd said something blasphemous. "I only disapprove because he didn't take me along with him." The corners of his lips twitched and I just shook my head at him. I knew he was partly joking. Fred's wide-eyed expression when George had thrown himself against him for a drunken hug the previous night had made it plain that Fred was worried about his brother, and I knew by the embarrassed and apologetic looks he'd given me that he hadn't approved of the way George had rambled on about Katie.

I sighed, glancing impatiently back towards George's bedroom, and then, deciding that I'd probably be there for a while, I shrugged off my jacket, draping it across the back of the couch before returning my attention to Fred. "Who do you think he's--" I began, but my words were cut off by a loud gasp from Fred.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," he said, his mouth hanging open slightly as he stared at me.

"What?" I asked, glancing nervously around us.

In response, Fred reached out, gently placing his fingertips against the tender flesh of my newly-exposed neck, dragging them down across my throat, then gently pulling the fabric of my shirt down and to the side to reveal my collarbone, and whatever he saw was unpleasant enough that it caused him to suck in a sharp breath of air and bite his lower lip. There was an awful dropping sensation in my stomach as I realized what he must be seeing.

I jumped up from my seat and rushed towards the bathroom. I firmly grasped the cold edges of the sink as I came face-to-face with my reflection in the mirror, only to let go a second later to raise a hand to cover my mouth, completely shocked by what I saw. When I'd gotten out of the shower at the burrow, the room had been so steamy and the glass so fogged up that I hadn't even bothered looking in the mirror, but now, I could clearly see several long, purplish bruises, providing a sickening contrast against my pale skin and reminding me of the attack the night before.

Fred entered the room, just a step behind me, his eyes already focused on the dark, finger-shaped marks. "What happened?" he asked, wincing as he watched me trace a bruise with my index finger, like it hurt him just to look at them. "Who did that to you?"

I shook my head, not wanting to talk about it, and pulled my wand from the pocket of my jeans, pointing the tip at one of the bruises and whispering a simple healing spell. Nothing happened.

"Katie didn't do that, did she?" My gaze flickered to Fred's reflection for just a second and I saw that he was still staring at my throat, his eyes wide and nervous. "I know she's wanted George back for years but surely she wouldn't..." his voice trailed off, and then his eyes met mine in the mirror and he raised his eyebrows in request for an answer.

"Wasn't Katie," I whispered, not trusting my voice to sound strong if I attempted to speak any louder. Again I raised my wand and tried to remove the bruises and again it didn't work.

"Wait," Fred said, suddenly sounding more clear-minded as he reached around me, pulling at one edge of the mirror and opening it to reveal a medicine cabinet which went so far back that it had to have been magically altered. It was packed with various bottles and tubs of creams and potions and powders, and Fred quickly ran his fingers across the items on the bottom row before settling on a small tub which he removed and then handed to me. "Here."

I unscrewed the lid, and examined the thick, yellow goo inside, remembering a time just a couple of years ago when he'd given me the same stuff to put on the black eye I'd gotten from one of the twins' joke telescopes. I looked back up, giving Fred a small smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he said, with a gentle smile of his own. "But honestly, Granger, what do you do when I'm not around to treat your injuries?" Apparently he, too, remembered the black-eye incident.

His smile faded, however, as he watched me set about the task of dabbing the paste onto my bruises, and when my bushy locks kept getting in the way, he stepped forward and gathered my hair in one hand and held it in a ponytail behind my neck to give me unhindered access to the marks on my throat.

"They'll be gone within the hour, right?" I asked as I screwed the lid back onto the tub.

"Half an hour at the most. New and improved formula," he explained. "So," he said, turning and resting a hip against the sink so that he could look at me face-to-face instead of just through the mirror, "you going to tell me what happened now or am I just supposed to pretend that you don't look like you got rode hard and put up wet?"

"I--" There was a pause. I blinked. Once. And again. "_What_? If that's some sort of sick, sexual euphemism, Fred Weasley--"

He grinned. "Relax. It's a muggle saying that I heard dad use once. Don't know where he got it from but he said it's just another way of saying someone looks terrible. I've been quite fond of the saying ever since, though I'm afraid I don't have the opportunity to use it nearly as often as I would like."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You only like it because it sounds vulgar."

He just shrugged his shoulders, still smiling. "But, all joking aside, Hermione..." His face became serious again as he waited for me to tell him what happened.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I tried to think of what I should say. "I..." My voice trailed off but I was saved from having to come up with an explanation when George's door creaked open across the hall, and Fred and I both turned our heads and watched as George came out. He stopped when he saw us, staring curiously, undoubtedly wondering why his twin and I were standing in the bathroom together, but then his face suddenly became stony and he turned away, walking down the hallway towards the front of the flat. Fred immediately followed after him, and I began to as well, but the owner of the mystery voice emerged from George's room just a second later, and we both stood, frozen in place when our eyes met.

"Harry?"

Harry glanced down the hall in the direction that George and Fred had gone and when he turned back to me, his face was scrunched up in an anxious-looking grimace. "I'm so sorry," he said, shaking his head at himself. "I was only trying to help."

There was an angry shout from George, followed by a calm, soothing response from his twin, but, given that they were at the opposite end of the the flat, I couldn't make out what either of them were saying.

"Harry, what did you do?"

"I-I have to get back before Ginny realizes I'm missing," he said, his eyes pleading and apologetic. If only I knew what he was apologizing _for_. "I'm so sorry," he said again and then turned on the spot.

"_Harr_--" I began, but he was already gone.

Taking a deep breath, and steeling myself for whatever it was that I was about to face, I turned and headed towards the living room. When I got there, both twins were on the couch: George sitting hunched over, his elbows propped up on his knees and his head resting in his hands, and Fred sitting right beside him, rubbing a comforting hand back and forth across his brother's back. Fred looked up at me as I entered the room. George did not.

"Right then," Fred said, looking away from me and inclining his head towards his twin once again. "I'm just going to go finish stocking the shelves. Be back in a bit..." Reluctantly, Fred removed his hand from George's back and then stood up, heading towards the door; he paused and turned to look at George once more and then looked at me, shrugging his shoulders at my puzzled expression just before he walked out.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence in the moments after Fred's departure.

"George?" I said at last. He didn't answer but he did reposition his head so that only his chin was resting in his hand, his eyes now completely visible as he stared up at me. "What's going on? Why was Harry here?" I asked, confused as to why he was staring at me so coldly. _I_ was the one who was supposed to be angry after everything that had happened last night! "Why are you looking at me like that?"

George shook his head back and forth, like he couldn't believe I was actually having to ask what his problem was. "I'm just trying to figure out," he began, his voice wavering slightly as he attempted to keep his emotions in check, "how someone so brilliant, could do something so incredibly _stupid_." He practically hissed that last word.

I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "Surely you are referring to yourself and your horrendous actions last night," I spat back, my pulse beginning to pound under the stress of the anger that was taking over my body as I realized that _he_ was actually angry at _me_.

"You went, alone," George was speaking slowly, through tightly clenched teeth, "to _Knockturn Alley_ last night."

I held my head up high. George didn't know me very well if he thought I was going to cower and back down just because I did something he didn't approve of. "Yes, I did--"

"What the _bloody_ hell were you thinking, Hermione?" he yelled, jumping up from his seat.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, George Weasley!" I shouted back, cocking my head to the side, silently daring him to defy me. "And what sort of question is that anyway? _What was I thinking_? I was thinking of _you_!"

"Thinking of me, eh?" George said, letting out a bitter-sounding chuckle before turning his back on me and pacing across the room. When he turned back around, both of his hands were pressed to the sides of his head which he was shaking back in forth in an expression of exasperation. "Thinking of me!? Tell me, exactly what part of you putting yourself in danger did you think that I'd appreciate? Because, the way I see it, what you did was incredibly selfish!"

"I am not a child, so stop talking to me as such!" I said, stomping across the room towards him. "And I'm not dainty and fragile simply because I'm a female! I spent the last seven years of my life helping Harry Potter bring down the darkest wizard in history!" I was standing right in front of George now. He was towering over me, his face clearly indicating that was as furious as ever, but I was not afraid of him. "I am a big girl--_I've seen _war_, for crying out loud_--and I'll have you know that I can very well take care of myself!"

George was silent for a moment as we both stared each other down, each of us breathing heavily through our noses, like we'd been engaged in a physical fight instead of a verbal one, and then George opened his mouth to speak. I braced myself, expecting to be yelled at again, and was surprised when the only sound that escaped George's lips was a strangled, frustrated groan...

And then he kissed me. Hard. Wrapping one arm around my waist, the other hand reaching up and getting lost in my hair, he tugged my body towards him, twisting us around and pushing me backwards until my back made contact with the nearest wall. George's arm took the brunt of the impact but the action was rough enough to force our lips apart for just a split second, just long enough for me to let out a tiny, surprised "oh" before being silenced again as George's mouth claimed mine for another heated kiss. He seemed to have lost all of the cool control that the Weasley twins were so famous for, and his lips moved frantically and firmly against my own for a while longer before I felt his tongue sweep across the seam of my lips in a desperate plea for entrance, which I immediately granted. Some small part of me knew that I was still angry, _furious_ even, but that kiss--all warmth and sweetness and delicious urgency unlike anything I'd ever felt before--was all that I could concentrate on. But then, George disentangled his hand from my hair and brought it around to cup my cheek before sliding his fingers down my throat, where his thumb brushed over one of the sensitive bruises, and I whimpered in pain.

George quickly pulled back, his lips dark pink and swollen, his entire demeanor slightly wild as he stared at me, and I watched his gaze slowly drop to my throat. I swallowed hard and nervously under his intense study of my bruises, and when he looked back up, his brown eyes were dark and flickering with an anger I'd never witnessed from him before.

"Take care of yourself, can you?" he said, picking up our argument just where we'd left off. "Harry said that you were surrounded by _four_ fully grown men when he found you."

It had taken me a moment to catch my breath, but now that I'd partially recovered from the intense snogging, my temper wasted no time in bubbling over with anger once again. I shoved away from the wall, letting my shoulder roughly connect with his bicep as I pushed past him.

"They could have kidnapped you and we would've never even known how to find you!" he called after me as I walked away. "Four men huddled around you? Bloody hell, Hermione. I know you're naive and innocent but surely even you can understand that they were going to _rape_ you!"

"_Really_, George?" I shrieked as I spun back around, wanting nothing more than to place a well-deserved slap across his cheek for insulting my intelligence as well as my "innocence." "Because I hadn't _quite_ gotten the message when one of them started undoing his trousers!" My body was shaking with the fury I felt, and my eyes were burning with embarrassed and shameful tears.

George was looking at me, his own eyes wide and beginning to water, and he choked out a simple, "What?" his voice breaking in the middle of the word. He looked like he'd been kicked in the gut.

Apparently, Harry hadn't told George that the men had indeed been planning to rape me. But then I realized, Harry himself must not have known. He didn't know that those men had followed me from that pub, he hadn't overheard their sick, perverse comments, and it was likely that he hadn't even seen the man pawing at my stomach, or the man undoing the button of his trousers, because they had all been crowded around me, and all had their backs to Harry when he'd shown up. George had only been guessing; he hadn't known that that was really what the men had intended to do...

"George," I said, slowly and carefully, because he looked to be one second away from a full-blown melt-down. "They didn't--" I started to explain but my words turned into a scared yelp as George turned and drove his right fist into the wall where we'd been kissing just a moment earlier. A swear that he'd never used in my presence escaped his lips and he groaned as he pulled his fist away from the dent he'd made. He hissed as he stretched and flexed his hand and I could see that two of his knuckles were busted and bleeding.

I pulled out my wand and started towards him. I may be no good with bruises, but minor cuts and blood, I could deal with. I reached out for his hand, but he jerked it away. "What is your _problem_?" I asked, feeling hurt and angered by his rejection of my attempt to help him.

"My problem?" George repeated, his face once again looking irate. "My problem is that I've never wanted to hurt anyone more than I want to hurt the sick bastards who thought they could touch you! My _problem_ is that you knowingly and willingly put yourself in danger and you don't even seem to care! You know how dangerous that place is and you went anyway, sod everybody else and what they might go through because of it, right!?"

Shocked, I took a step back. "Are you _blaming_ me?"

George's eyes widened and he made a move towards me, his hands now reaching out for me, "No," he said. "_Never_," he added rather forcefully when I moved out of reach. "Hermione, I lo--" he started to say something else but I cut him off.

"You _are_ blaming me," I said, my voice high-pitched and disbelieving. "You're blaming _me_ when this whole thing is really all _your_ fault. This all happened because _you_ can't deal with the pain you're feeling!" George stopped in his tracks and dropped his arms to his sides, no longer reaching out for me. "I was worried about you! I went to Knockturn Alley looking _for you_! And where were you while I was being attacked? You were off getting drunk and cuddling up with your ex-lover!"

George's eyes flashed again. "You make it sound like I snuck off to be with her! I can't help it that she just showed up. I didn't do _anything_ with her!"

"Her hand was in your lap when Harry and I got there!"

George shook his head. "I don't know what you think you saw, Hermione, but Katie's hand never got anywhere near my lap. And contrary to what you so obviously think of me, I'm not a man-slut! I don't just let girls grope me in the middle of crowded pubs!"

I laughed humorlessly. "Oh, and how much longer do you really think you would have lasted with her throwing herself at you, given how drunk you were? If Harry and I had shown up ten minutes later, we probably would have found the two of you in bed together!"

"I'm really touched by your faith in me," he said in a quieter, but even more bitter tone, staring down at me with a scowl on his face. I started to say something about how difficult it is to have faith that a drunk person won't do something idiotic, but George interrupted me. "I would _never _do that to you!" he said in a fierce whisper. "I said I'd be faithful and I meant it!"

I sighed angrily. "Fine. Whatever you say, George. But the truth of the matter is that _none_ of this would have happened if you had just told Fred what really happened the night of the battle!" George's face fell, and the sight of it pained my heart, but it didn't stop me from continuing. "You call my actions 'selfish?' You are the one being selfish, George. You're the one keeping this huge secret, bottling up all this pain inside you, and it isn't fair to anyone! This is tearing you apart and it isn't fair to you and it isn't fair to the people who care about you! You think Fred doesn't know that something's wrong with you? You can't deal with this on your own so you need to stop being a coward and just talk to him already!"

I finally stopped, firmly clenching my jaw as I struggled to calm down after my passionate rant, and I stayed silent, searching George's eyes for any indication of what he might be thinking or feeling while I waited for him to say something. But he never did, and I just stood there and watched, feeling angry and hurt and guilty, as he walked straight past me, down the hall and into his room, slamming his door shut behind him.

* * *

Ha. Fights are fun to write :D

I swear the sadness and the drama will come to an end! But just enjoy it for now :) We only have a few more chapters to go :( Ahh.. this is my first fanfic baby and I'm sad to see it coming to an end! But, I'd really like to do another one because I've had SO much fun with this. I really want to do a twin-centric story, preferably set during their 7th year (OotP) and I've already got a few little scenes planned out in my head, but I need a bigger plot. I want to be able to follow along with the school year because there are so many awesome twin parts in OotP, but I still need a unique plot and I'm having a really hard time thinking of anything. If anybody has any ideas of twin stories that they'd like to see written, I'm open to suggestions. I regret that I can't do a F/H/G romance, but I'd love to hear ideas for what kinds of awesome trouble I could get our favorite twins into in a new story! :D

Thanks again for the fabulous reviews. It feels SO good to know that people have been enjoying this fanfic. Please, keep the reviews coming! I don't want to be one of those people who beats others over the head with a demand for reviews, but I will ask politely :D Especially since there are LOADS of people who have subscribed to this story but never reviewed. Come on..... you know you wanna review! The reviews really do mean a lot to me and I respond to them all! (Unless you don't have an account, or if you don't accept PM's) :D

You guys are awesome! Thanks for taking the time to read!


	17. Chapter 16 Everything's Fine

**Sorry this seems kinda short. I HATE how this site takes **_**several **_**pages worth of text and makes it only a few inches long.. :\ Ah, well. :P**

**Still don't own anything..**

**And, again I ask that you forgive me for any typos you may find. I try to catch them all but sometimes I fail.**

**Hope you all enjoy! I solemnly swear that things will be looking up soon for poor Freddie, Georgie, and Hermione :)**

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The slam of George's door seemed to echo throughout the flat, and I just stood there, dumbly staring down the hall, not sure if I should march myself into George's room and demand that he talk to me, or if I should just give up and go back to the burrow.

But I soon lost my opportunity to make that decision for myself.

"Hermione..." came a voice from somewhere to my left, and I jumped, surprised to find that I wasn't alone. Fred was standing just inside the door leading into the flat, his arms crossed over his chest, and his lips in a tight line. He did not look happy.

"Fred, you startled me," I said, forcing out a breathy laugh, but he only narrowed his eyes at my attempt to feign nonchalance.

"What were you and George just arguing about?"

"What?"

"Why did you call my brother a coward?" he continued, an unusually grim and unfriendly expression on his face.

"You were _eavesdropping_ on us," I whispered, my mind beginning to race as I quickly tried to recall exactly what I'd said to George. I offered a silent prayer of thanks when I realized that I hadn't actually said anything specific about what happened to Fred...

"And what is it that you think George needs to talk to me about?" Fred asked, pointedly ignoring my accusation.

"Fred, I--" I started but then I stopped, not having the faintest idea of what I should say. I averted my gaze to the ground and just stood there, shifting my weight from one foot to the other under his discomforting stare.

Fred let out a loud, frustrated breath and then walked past me, down the hall, in the direction that George had gone just a few moments earlier, and I followed behind him, feeling slightly terrified of whatever was about to happen. When Fred reached his twin's door, he jiggled the knob but it must have been locked, so he lifted a fist and pounded on the surface instead.

"Go away," came George's reply.

"It's me," Fred said in a firm voice.

"I know."

Fred took a small step back, staring at the door as if it had just insulted him. "Obviously, you _didn't_ know because you've never in your life told me to 'go away.' Now, _let me in_!"

"Come on, Fred," George said, and his voice was tired and pleading. "Can't I have five minutes to myself?"

"No. You can't," Fred said, simply. "I want to know what it is that Hermione thinks you need to talk to me about!" There was a short pause and I held my breath, wondering what George was going say to get out of this, or wondering if he would finally give in and tell Fred the truth..

"Since when do you listen in on my private conversations?" George asked, and I was surprised to hear that his voice, though slightly annoyed, sounded remarkably calm and controlled.

"Since when do you keep anything _private_ from me!?" Fred countered.

Even through the door, I could hear George's sigh. "Can't we do this later? I'm really not in the mood to talk right now, Fred."

"Well, I don't give a flying fig what you're in the mood for, _George_. You're going to open this door and you're going to tell me what the bloody blazes has been going on with you lately!" he jiggled the doorknob again, a little rougher this time. "If you don't unlock this door, I'm going to blast it off its hinges and then I'm going to give you a muggle-style beating once I get in there."

"You wouldn't touch a single hair on my head," George said, very confidently. "And you know better than anyone that my Imperturbable charms are practically indestructable; if I don't want you in here, you're not getting in here." And with that, George fell silent.

Fred was looking positively furious now, and he leaned forward, grumbling under his breath as he rested his forehead against the wood of the door. "George..." he called out in such a way that it sounded very much like a warning. When George didn't answer, Fred continued. "I'm going to count to three, and if you don't open up and let me in, I swear I'm going to start spilling every embarrassing memory that I have of you, and your bride-to-be is going to hear it all."

Apparently, George found the threat highly amusing because he began laughing. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

Fred narrowed his eyes at the door. "One."

George just continued to chuckle.

"Two."

"Fred," I said, reaching out to tug at his sleeve, "maybe you shouldn't--"

"Three," he said, not even acknowledging that I'd spoken. "Alright, George. I warned you." Fred took a deep breath and then cleared his throat in preparation. "You're twenty years old and sleeping in the bed with me is the only thing that can comfort you when you're really upset."

There was another soft laugh from George. "She already knows that," he called back.

Fred raised his eyebrows. "She does?" he said, and then turned to look at me before adding, "You do?" I gave him a tiny nod and he frowned, though I couldn't tell if he was saddened that George had let me in on their secret, or if he was just upset that he couldn't use that one as ammunition in his fight to lure George from his room.

"And if that's supposed to embarrass me," George began, "then it ought to embarrass you, too, you git."

One corner of Fred's mouth twitched up into a smirk. "You were afraid to go to the toilet by yourself at night until well-after you turned fourteen because you were afraid of walking through the house in the dark."

"Yeah, and you were always so willing to accompany me instead of staying in our room alone because _you_ were scared of the sounds coming from the ghoul in the attic," George said.

"You're _still_ afraid of being alone in the dark."

"And the last time we stayed overnight at the burrow, you _still_ wouldn't let me leave you alone in our old room."

"Fine." Fred paused for just a second, scowling as he struggled to come up with something else, and then the sudden glimmer in his eyes told me that he had succeeded. "When we were thirteen years old, I caught you practicing your snogging skills with a pillow."

There was a snort of laughter from the other side of the door. "Yeah, and then you told me I was doing it all wrong and proceeded to give me pointers using your own pillow!"

"Oh, yeah..." Fred said, cracking a grin, while I just rolled my eyes at their comments. "Well, during our fifth year at school, you dreamt about kissing McGonagall. On _three_ separate occasions."

"_What_?" I said, feeling slightly nauseous at the mental image I was getting, and Fred laughed.

"That," George began, "was not a 'dream.' That was a recurring _nightmare_, that was. I was in no way, shape, or form, aroused by those dreams and thus, I have no reason to be embarrassed by them." George chuckled again. "C'mon, brother dearest, give it up already. You can't embarrass me."

"Is that right?" Fred firmly clenched his jaw and fell silent for a moment, appearing to debate something in his mind before he spoke again. "Okay, Georgie. I didn't want to have to do this but you leave me no choice."

"Let's hear it, then," George challenged, beginning to sound all-too-amused by this game they were playing.

"There was this one day last summer, when we were testing out a few of our new products..." Fred trailed off, smirking to himself as he waited for his twin's response.

George didn't disappoint. There was a soft gasp followed by a quietly spoken "You wouldn't dare..."

"I assure you, _brother dearest_, I intend to do whatever it takes to make you open this door. I promise I'll stop as soon as you open up." Apparently, George truly believed that Fred wouldn't spill whatever it was they were obviously both thinking of, but, unfortunately for him, Fred took his twin's silence as his cue to continue. "You were testing various sweets on this particular day, while I observed and jotted down notes, and there was this one sweet that had the most peculiar effect on you..."

"Don't even _think_ about it," George said, and for the first time since this little exchange had begun, he was sounding a little worried.

"You going to let me in now?"

There was a short pause. "No."

Fred's smirk quickly turned into a sinister smile. "'_Just one sweet and you'll be able to charm that witch right off her feet!_'" he said in a sing-song voice. "Isn't that what we put on the packages of the Sweet-Talking Sweets, George?"

For a moment, all that could be heard from George was a string of indecipherable mumbles. "You were just supposed to give me a Crunchy Cauldron! It's not my fault that you mixed them up and handed me one of those ridiculous things instead!"

"Hey," Fred said, looking and sounding offended by George's insulting description of one of their inventions, "those 'ridiculous things' have been quite a success with the unfortunate blokes who lack the confidence and tact to smooth talk the ladies on their own. They've made us a nice little profit and, if I recall correctly, the Sweet-Talking Sweets were _your_ idea."

"Yes, well, it was _not_ my idea to try them out on myself with only you around to do my sweet talking to!"

Fred pursed his lips and shook his head, clearly struggling to contain a laugh. "Completely beside the point, Georgie. Now, are you ready to let me in or do I need to start repeating all the things you said to me?"

George groaned but didn't give Fred any other answer, and he didn't seem to be making a move to open the door, either.

"Let's see," Fred said, pausing for just a second as he pretended to be deep in thought. " Ah, yes... I believe the first thing you said was that my eyes were like _pools of melted chocolate that you could spend eternity swimming in_." He mimicked George's words in a breathy, romantic tone of voice.

"Oh, sod off, Fred!" came George's irritated response. "You know as well as I do that you were batting your lashes at me and egging me on because you found the whole thing so bloody hilarious!"

Fred continued on, clearly sensing that his twin was beginning to crack. "And then--now, tell me if I'm remembering this correctly, George--I believe you said something about how pretty my mouth was and how--"

Fred was cut off by the unmistakable clicking sound of the lock being undone, and he stood up straight, taking his weight off the door just in time before George swung it open, staring daggers at his brother. Fred just smiled a smug, triumphant smile as he pressed one hand to George's chest, pushing him into the room, while he reached out with his other hand and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me inside with them.

"That's what I thought," Fred said, kicking the door shut behind him while wrapping one hand around George's wrist in what must have been an attempt to prevent him from disapparating. "Now, start talking."

"I don't know what you want me to say!" George said, frowning down at the place where Fred was firmly gripping him. "There's nothing _to_ say."

"Oh, don't give me that! I heard Hermione. She said you were being a coward and that you needed to tell me something." There was a short pause where nothing was said and the twins just stared at each other for a moment before Fred finally shouted, "_So tell me__!_"

George's mouth was set in a deep frown and his eyes were narrowed, and his gaze traveled past Fred's shoulder to land on me. I imagined that if I could hear his thoughts, they would have sounded a little something like: _Thank you so much for getting me into this mess._ And, instead of that thought making me feel guilty or sympathetic, it made me feel angry. It wasn't my fault that Fred was eavesdropping on us, and it wasn't my fault that George was keeping this enormous secret! No, that part of it was all on George and _he_ would have to deal with the consequences. So, I crossed my arms over my chest and returned his glare with every bit of indignation and anger that he was so unfairly showing me.

"You must have misunderstood something while you were _eavesdropping_, Fred," George said.

Fred reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, fleshy ear with a long, thin string attached to it, and held it up for his twin to see. "I don't think I did. It's just unfortunate that I apparently only caught the end of your argument."

George's mouth dropped open at the sight of the Extendable Ears, but then he quickly shut it and his look of surprise turned into an expression of hurt and betrayal. "I can't believe you would to that to me."

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't hiding something from me!" Fred said, looking outraged.

George sighed and turned away, tugging himself free from his brother's grip, and moved to the other side of the room. "Everything's fine, Fred. _I'm_ fine," he said, keeping his back to us. "I'm not hiding anything from you."

Fred took two steps, his long stride closing the gap George had put between them, and grasping his brother by the shoulders, he spun him back around until they were facing each other again. "Look me in the eyes and say that."

The identical redheads stared at each other carefully, their gazes locked on each other's, and George took a deep breath and lightly moistened his lips with his tongue as he prepared to speak, that small action making it undeniably obvious that he was nervous. "I'm not keeping anything fro--from you." His voice wavered just the slightest bit, but he straightened his back and squared his shoulders, holding his face level with his twin's.

Very slowly, Fred loosened his fingers from George's arms, letting his hands fall limply to his sides, and then with just a heavy sigh and a sad shake of his head, he took a step back, away from his brother, and turned and left the room. George just stood there, looking miserable as he watched him go.

"George," I said his name in a fierce whisper. "What are you doing? Call him back in here! _Tell him_!"

George put a finger to his lips and shot me a meaningful glare. He flicked his wand and muttered a soft, _muffliato_, before responding to me. "I can't."

"But this is your perfect chance! Just tell him the truth and it'll all work itself ou--"

"I said I can't!" George shouted. "Don't you understand? Do you see how completely messed up I am? Do you see how bitter and angry and pathetic I've become? I can't do that to Fred! I won't let him go through this!"

"And how do you think he's feeling right now? Because he certainly doesn't seem happy to me!"

"Of course he isn't bloody happy! I just lied to him for the first time in our entire lives! We're Fred and George; we're bloody _Gred and Forge_ and I just looked him in the eyes and _lied_ to him!" George sunk to his bed, cradling his face in his hands.

"You can change that," I said, perhaps a little too eagerly. "You can tell him the truth."

George looked up at me, eyebrows raised and shaking his head like he couldn't believe I still wasn't getting it. "This _truth_ that you think Fred needs to hear? It would crush him."

"Well, I think you're wrong--" I began to say. I wanted to tell him that he wasn't giving Fred enough credit. I wanted to assure him that Fred was strong enough to take it, and that he would _want_ to know the truth because he'd want to help George through it, but George cut me off.

"You think I'm wrong," he repeated. "Forgive me, Hermione, but all your wisdom and all your book smarts do _not_ make you an expert on my brother, so don't you dare start telling me how Fred would handle the truth because _I _know him better than anyone!" George moved to his feet once again and began pacing the room, one hand furiously rubbing and massaging the back of his neck.

I threw my hands up in exasperation. "But this is ridiculous! Now you're both miserable an--" I stopped immediately upon seeing the twisted expression of pain and anger on George's face.

"Ridiculous? I'm coming apart at the seams trying to protect someone I love and you're going to tell me I'm being ridiculous?"

"George, that's not--"

"I want you to leave."

"What? You can't be serious!"

George crossed the room, pulled open the door, and then just stood there, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at me. "Now."

"You know what? That's just fine." I drew myself up and made my way to the door, pausing when I reached the place where George was standing. I looked up at him, but he seemed determined to avoid eye-contact and chose to stare at a spot well over my head on the opposite wall. "I honestly don't know why I'm even wasting my breath on someone who, over the past twenty-four hours, has gone out of his way to show that he doesn't value my opinion or my friendship." I lingered for a moment, giving him ample time to respond, and when he didn't, I held my head high and stepped out into the hallway.

In front of me, Fred's door was shut, and George's door closed right behind me, and so that's how I left them - both twins angry, hurt, and alone.

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**Ehh. I'm not completely happy with this chapter but, it is what it is, I suppose. Hopefully you guys won't hate it too much :P I originally hadn't even intended to write this scene, but after some very thought-provoking reviews from _Binka_**_** Fudge**_** and _Phoenix Phlames_, I realized that Fred, being the sly, naughty creature that he is (and being so concerned for his twin!) would likely somehow **_**overhear**_** part of George and Hermione's conversation. So, since this is pretty much a *bonus* chapter that I hadn't originally planned on writing, maybe that will kinda make up for the fact that it's a little short and a little sloppily written.. :( Maybe? Please?**

**And I promise, things are about to start looking up (and wrapping up!) ;)**

**Reviews would be LOVED because I found out earlier today that my favorite band EVER is breaking up *sob!* and I'm feeling a little sickly.. So, if you enjoyed this chapter (or if you've just been enjoying this story in general but haven't reviewed yet) I'd love to hear from you. I could use a little cheering up.**


	18. Chapter 17 Protests & Apologies

**Can you guys believe it's November already?! Wow. :P**

**I don't own anything, and, as usual, please forgive any typos you may find.**

**Hope you all enjoy!**

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Typically, when I'm upset or hurt, I busy myself with any and everything that I can possibly busy myself with and, really, that should have been fairly easy to do since my wedding was only a handful of days away, but I just couldn't force my body to cooperate. I went to bed early, I stayed in bed late, and generally just spent the two and a half days after my fight with George, moping around the burrow. Two and a half days without sight of or word from the man I would soon be pledging my life to... Not typically a good sign of things to come.

Ginny could tell that something was seriously wrong but, aside from the occasional, sympathetic hug, she gave me lots of much-appreciated privacy. Harry, clearly sensing that his big-mouth had played a role in whatever had me so upset, had made several attempts to apologize, but I had done a fairly decent job of avoiding him. Mrs. Weasley, however, could not be so easily dissuaded. The fight with George had happened on Sunday, and by Tuesday afternoon, Mrs. Weasley, though completely oblivious to the reason for my foul mood, seemed to be growing quite tired with my miserable demeanor.

"I mean it, young lady," Mrs. Weasley said, pulling the covers away from where they'd previously been tucked up around my chin. "I want you out of this bed this instant!"

I rolled over and buried my face into the pillow. "I'm not feeling well," I attempted to say over a face-full of cotton-encased feathers. But I knew she wouldn't buy it. She'd checked my temperature a dozen times over the last couple of days and she'd run a whole host of diagnostic spells and tests that she must have picked up throughout her many years of parenting seven children. She knew I wasn't sick and it was the first time in my life that I'd ever wished I could get my hands on something from the twins' Skiving Snackboxes collection. Too bad George and I weren't currently on speaking terms...

"Hermione, dear," she said in a firm but slightly kinder tone, "You are going to take a shower, and then you're going to join the family for a nice, nourishing meal."

I lifted my head to look at her, tears beginning to form at the corners of my eyes just at the thought of leaving my safe, warm bed.

Mrs. Weasley smiled and patted my cheek in a soft, maternal gesture. "You'll feel better afterwards. I promise."

Still, it was with an unwilling spirit that I forced myself to get up and shower and change into a fresh set of clothes, and my stomach clenched unpleasantly when I heard all conversation grow quiet and felt all eyes settle on me as I walked into the kitchen for supper. Mrs. Weasley gave me an approving smile before returning her attention to her task of putting food on the table, but Mr. Weasley, Percy, Ginny, and Harry all continued to stare at me in a rather discomforting way. Finally noticing this, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat and struck up conversation with Percy, and Ginny's body jerked slightly and I knew, if Harry's hiss of pain and the subsequent glare he sent in Ginny's direction were any indication of what had just happened, she must have kicked him in attempt to make him stop looking at me. I settled myself into the empty seat beside Percy and just stared down at my plate, avoiding eye contact with any and everyone while Mrs. Weasley piled way too much food on the plate in front of me, and soon, the room was filled with the clinks of silverware and glasses and comfortable chit-chat.

I just sat in silence, pushing a bit of potato around on my plate, but something Percy said a few moments later piqued my interested.

"...hundreds of them protesting outside the ministry today. Did you see them, father?" he asked, and then took a small, polite sip of his drink.

"Oh, yes," came Mr. Weasley's reply around a mouthful of bread. He quickly swallowed and gave his wife a sheepish, apologetic smile before continuing. "Yes. And I hear that they've got another rally planned for tomorrow!" There was an excited gleam in his eyes.

I looked back and forth between father and son for a moment, feeling suddenly annoyed with myself for being so out of it the last few days that I'd obviously missed something important. "Who is protesting what?" I asked.

"It seems," Percy began as he turned in his seat to face me, "that there are still quite a few individuals who are displeased with the marriage law."

"Oh?"

"Apparently, they are growing of their voices not being heard, so they staged a riot today outside of the ministry. Outside of the _visitor's entrance_ to the ministry, at that!"

"The visitor's entrance?" I repeated, a little shocked. The visitor's entrance was located in _muggle_ london.

"Mm." He nodded very seriously. "My reaction exactly, Hermione. It caused quite an uproar, as you can imagine and quite a few muggles had to have their memories _obliviated_."

"Oh, that's awful. What is the ministry going to do?"

Percy opened his mouth to speak but Mr. Weasley beat him to it. "Well, they're doing the best they can to pacify the protestors, but it seems that the minister himself is considering enforcing the marriage law on even the higher-up officials. You know, to boost public morale and increase support of this bloody, idiotic ordinance."

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked from the opposite end of the table. "Watch your language in front of the children."

"Goodness gracious, Molly, they're all of age and you know as well as I do that this law is a bunch of--"

His rant was cut off by the sound of Percy clearing his throat. "If I may say so, father, perhaps this isn't the place to be discussing the ministry's proposed course of action regarding this situation?"

"What?" Mr. Weasley asked, his face still flushed with the slightest bit of anger, but his face relaxed as his son's words sank in. "Oh, yes. Of course. Quite right, Percy."

"Hermione," Percy said brightly, turning his attention to me once again. "How have you been lately? Are you getting excited? Your wedding is in, what, four days, isn't it? "

I could see that he was attempting to steer the conversation away from a topic that he clearly deemed inappropriate to discuss outside of the office, so I indulged him, even though my wedding to George was really the last thing I wanted to think about at the moment. "Four days," I said, nodding and mustering up the cheeriest smile I could manage.

"Must be a bit scary marrying one of the twins," he said, reaching over to give my shoulder a sympathetic pat, "but, don't worry. Seeing as I'll be officiating, I'll help keep an eye on those two and make sure they don't try to pull anything." I forced a small laugh, which he repaid with a smile before turning to engage his mother in a discussion about his own upcoming wedding and now, with Mr. Weasley intently focused on his supper, and with Ginny, Harry, Percy and Mrs. Weasley all consumed by their own conversations, I allowed myself to return to my silent solitude.

I half-heartedly speared a small carrot with my fork, but on the slow journey from my plate to my mouth, the seemingly innocent little vegetable caused a memory to come flooding into my mind. George and I were sitting on a blanket under the night sky and his finger was tracing across my outstretched palm in search for his favorite flavored bean. He told me the orange ones were his favorite, but that they, unfortunately, looked very similar to the carrot-flavored beans, of which he wasn't very fond. My bottom lip quivered as I stared at the stupid, offending vegetable.

Why do humans let themselves fall in love when love has the power to turn the most mundane actions into horribly painful, seemingly impossible, tasks?

My grip loosened around my fork and my mouth dropped open slightly. In less than thirty seconds, my thoughts had gone from carrots, to George, to _love_, and while a large part of me knew that it was quite an irrational train of thought, another part of me realized that it made complete sense. I didn't know when or where or how it had happened - whether it had been slowly building since the night he'd offered to love me, or if it had happened as a result of my wanting to protect him from all the pain he was feeling, or even if it was as simple and shallow as me falling for his ridiculous charms and flirtations and kisses - but I did know one thing: I was in love.

I was in love with George Weasley and he was so angry with me that he'd kicked me out of his room and hadn't spoken to me in days. The memory of our fight and all the harsh words and accusations and glares we'd exchanged two days earlier washed over me with such renewed pain that it was like I was experiencing it all for the first time, and my eyes began to tear up and my fork slipped through my fingers, landing on my plate with a loud clatter. A loud clatter that was drowned out by an even louder CRACK and I (along with every other person seated at the table) whipped my head around towards the source of the sound.

And there was George. He was standing in the middle of the room, his hair a scraggly, tousled, mess, eyes tired-looking and bloodshot, shoulders slumped, and his head hanging so low that his chin was almost resting on his chest.

"George, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, clearly having been startled by his unexpected, rather _loud_ arrival. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I'd have set a place for you!" She was already summoning a clean plate and silverware for him, but stopped when she noticed her son was making no move to sit at the table. "Georgie," she said tentatively. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," he said, but his words were not directed at his mother. He had lifted his head just the slightest bit and his eyes, red and watery, were locked on mine. "I'm so sorry," he said again, his voice low and strained as he struggled to control his emotions.

And with nothing more than a split-second's thought, I was pushing away from the table, a deep, scraping groan filling the otherwise silent room as my chair slid across the wooden floor, and I ran to George, throwing myself completely against him and wrapping my arms around his neck with an embarrassingly loud sob. He responded immediately, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up so that my feet were no longer touching the floor, and he held me against him in a crushing hug.

"I'm so sorry," he said, yet again, and though his words were muffled, his face buried in the crook of my neck, he sounded on the verge of tears himself. "So sorry... can't believe I... such an idiot..." came his broken, apologetic pleas, and they only made me sob harder with the sense of relief that was washing over me. "Shh." George reached up and petted my hair. "Please don't cry. I'm doing all I can here to protect my masculine image but you keep doing that and I'm going to join in. _Please_ don't make me cry in front of Percy."

I laughed. A loud, happy (though somewhat sniffly) laugh, and wiggled against George until he put me on my feet again, and when he looked down at me, I could see that his eyes were still glistening, but he was smiling.

"May I borrow Hermione for a moment?" George asked, speaking loudly, probably to his mother, but never taking his eyes off of me.

"I.. well.. that is.." Mrs. Weasley was clearly confused. "Yes, I suppose," she managed to get out at last. "Assuming that she wants to go with you, of course."

George raised his eyebrows, questioning me, and I nodded. Grabbing my hand, he led me through the kitchen, out the back door, and into the garden, motioning for me to sit on the bench where we'd sat together a few weeks earlier, right after we'd found out we were going to be married. When I was seated, George knelt on his knees in front of me, one hand placed on the bench on either side of me.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

I gave him a small smile. "You've said that already."

"Yeah, but not enough. I was terrible to you. You were trying to help me and I just completely brushed you off and--"

"George, it's okay." I interrupted, not needing to hear him recount and apologize for every single offense.

"It's _not_ okay. Hermione, you'd just been..." he paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "you'd just been attacked and instead of trying to comfort you, I yelled at you and I kicked you out and then didn't speak to you for two days, not because I was angry at you but because I was furious with _myself_. That is bloody well not okay and you know it."

"Alright, maybe it isn't _okay_, but I forgive you. It doesn't matter any more."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Why are you making this so easy? How can you possibly forgive me so quickly after everything I've put you through these last few days?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I just can."

"But you what you said about it all being my fault, you were right. It's _my_ fault that you were almost... that those men almost hurt you," George said, and I could feel his fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.

"I was just angry when I said that. I didn't mean it. You're not to blame for something someone else did--"

"But you were only there because you were looking for me! And I know you're strong and brave and brilliant and perfectly capable of looking out for yourself but _you needed me_," here, George leaned forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and laying his head in my lap, "and I'm so, so sorry that I wasn't there to protect you."

"George," I said with a sigh as I threaded my fingers into his hair. "It's okay. _I'm_ okay. They didn't hurt me."

George's head popped up, though he still let his chin rest against my knee. "Don't do that. Don't act like what happened is no big deal. I saw those bruises and we both know what they were planning on doing to you." With a sad sigh, he laid his face against my lap again. "I'm sorry they touched you."

I almost said _So am I_, but decided against it, feeling certain that that wouldn't do anything to improve George's mood. "What can I do to make you stop blaming yourself?"

George shrugged, one of his shoulders hitting the side of my knee as he did. "Scream at me? Hex me? Tell me I'm a miserable excuse for a human being and that I deserve to have my soul sucked out by a dementor? Any of those would do."

I chuckled softly. "Well, if that's what you really want, I think I still have it in me to yell at you about the whole Katie thing..."

George looked up once more, making direct eye contact. "You were right about that too--I mean, I swear nothing happened--" he added quickly, "but I was really drunk and not thinking clearly and I'm so sorry if I made you think, even for a second, that I was being anything other than completely faithful."

I inhaled sharply, raising my eyebrows at him. "Wow."

He raised his head completely and leaned back to see me better. "What?"

"Not only have you apologized at least a dozen times, but you just admitted to being wrong about something." I didn't hold back the grin that was creeping over my face. "I didn't think you or Fred were capable of doing either."

"Yes, well," he began with a small smile of his own. "That's one thing about us Weasley twins: we may love to cross the line every chance we get, but we also know that there are some times when it's just a good idea to get on our knees and beg forgiveness for it."

He was quiet for a moment, and then the grin slowly slipped from his face. Having a good idea of what was likely bothering him, my smile faltered as well.

"Speaking of Fred," I said, letting my voice trail off, prompting George to fill me in.

"He's not speaking to me." George's gaze dropped to the ground. "Hasn't said a word since he left my room Sunday afternoon. Fred's never given me the silent treatment before; it's infuriating and it's _really_ bloody lonely..."

"Oh, George." I reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair away from his face.

"Can't say I blame him, though," he said with a humorless laugh. "I'd be furious if I knew he was keeping something from me and that he looked me in the eyes and lied to me about it."

I took a deep breath, carefully choosing my next words. "And you still won't reconsider? You won't tell him the truth?"

He shook his head, frowning. "And I understand if you don't agree with me on this. But, I'd really appreciate your support..."

"I know you want to protect him and I _do_ support you," I said, reaching out to grab his hand in confirmation of my words, "I just don't want you to let this secret ruin your relationship with Fred because I know how important he is to you and..." I trailed off as I noticed the strange but adoring way in which George was now eyeing me. "George?"

"Thank you."

I let out a soft, confused laugh. "...For?"

"Everything," was his immediate response. "But especially for understanding how much I need him and for bringing him back to me."

"You know you don't have to continue thanking me for that," I said giving him a sad smile. "Anyone would have done the same if they'd been in my shoes."

"But it wasn't just anyone, Hermione. It was _you_. _You_ were there when it happened. _You_ saw me at the weakest moment in my life; _you_ were the one who knew about the time-turner and _you_were the one who saved my brother." George paused, his breathing slightly labored from his passionate speech, but still he continued. "And I swear I'm not trying to prevent you from making whatever overly-modest remark I _know_ is on the tip of your tongue, and I'm not trying to change the subject but I really have to kiss you this very second or else there's a very good chance I might explode under the pressure of my gratitude." And then, he rocked forward on his knees, closed the small gap between us, and pressed his lips to mine.

Caught off guard, my eyes were still wide open and staring at George's face (which was rather blurry due to the close proximity) and when he noticed my lack of response, he cracked an eye open as well. I felt him grin into the kiss when he caught me staring, but his eye fluttered shut again and mine followed suit as I forced myself to relax. His lips parted and his tongue was there just a second later, gently searching for and then mingling with my own in slow, affectionate strokes. When George finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, very lightly rubbing the tips of our noses together.

"_That_," he said with a contented sigh, "is how I had planned to introduce our tongues to each other." He flashed that bright, cocky smile that I hadn't seen from him in quite a while. "Sorry for--umm--shoving you against the wall the way I did," he said, but the tiny glimmer in his eyes indicated that perhaps he wasn't completely remorseful. "But you're really, _very_ gorgeous when you're angry."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?"

He laughed at my disbelieving tone. "Oh, yes. The way your cheeks get all flushed and your curls start flying like mad all around your face when you're yelling at me?" He hummed, softly and warmly as he reached up to gently tug at one of my curls. "Positively breathtaking."

I turned my attention to my lap, blushing deeply at his compliment. "Thank you. I think."

George hooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head up so that I was looking in his eyes again. "I'm really sorry that I was drunk the first time I told you that you're beautiful."

I thought back to the moment when George and I had been sprawled out on the twins' living-room floor after my less-than-perfect attempt at dissaparting while supporting a very drunk George. "So you remember that, then?" I asked, feeling a little embarrassed as I recalled the way he'd stroked my hair and barely whispered the words "so beautiful."

He nodded. "I promise it wasn't the alcohol talking, though. I do think you're beautiful."

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. "You don't have to do that, George. I know I'm not the prettiest girl ever but I'm okay with that, so I don't want you thinking that you have to say that to me now that we're together."

George laughed loudly. "_Have_ to? I'm sorry, perhaps we haven't met before. I'm _George Weasley_." He picked up my hand and shook it as if we were being introduced for the first time.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I get it. You never do anything just because you have to."

"Exactly," he said with a cheeky grin. "I do things because I _want_ to, and I want to tell you that you're beautiful because it's something I've known to be true for quite a long while."

I groaned, annoyed and embarrassed. "George..."

"What? Just because a certain little brother of mine was too dimwitted to see that you were turning out to be quite a gorgeous little bird, doesn't mean that the rest of us didn't notice."

"The rest of us?" I repeated, my voice slightly squeaky.

"Well, Fred and me, at least. We noticed." He finished with a wink.

The corners of my mouth twitched as I tried not to smile at him. "Stop joking around."

It was George's turn to let out an annoyed groan. "Hermione, were you not paying attention all the times that Fred teased me about that dream I had of you?"

"I was, but now that I know you've also dreamt of kissing Professor McGonagall, I'm not sure that your dream about me indicates anything more than the fact that you need to watch what you eat before you go to sleep."

George smirked at this. "Fair enough. But Fred and I _have_ found you attractive for quite some time now. Ever since our seventh year when--you _still_ don't believe me!" He said, shaking his head when he saw the look I was giving him. "That's it. Come on." He pushed himself to his feet and then reached for my hand.

"Where are we going?" I asked, though I was already placing my hand in his.

"To let you hear it from Fred that... we... think..." His words slowly tapered off and then he sighed. "Forgot he isn't speaking to me," he said with sad smile. I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around his waist and snuggling my face against his chest while he rested his cheek against the top of my head. "No worries. He'll come around," he said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.

My stomach gave a loud grumble just then, and, as humiliating as it is to have one's stomach growl in the presence of an attractive boy, I was thankful for the soft laugh that it coaxed from George.

"I haven't eaten much lately," I admitted, realizing that I was suddenly very hungry.

"Hmm. Suppose we should go raid the kitchen for mum's leftovers, then. D'you reckon?"

"Sounds good," I said, smiling at George as he led me towards the burrow and opened the door, holding it for me. "George," I said, pausing in front of him. "This might sound really strange but, have you found my clothes in your room by any chance?"

"Oh. Umm..." George nervously ran a hand through his hair. "Well, you see, the thing about that is....."

* * *

**No worries, no worries! I'm sure you all know by now that I simply adore the Gred/Forge bond and I wouldn't dream of doing it any serious harm :) So, don't despair! All will be fine ;)**

**Thanks once again for all the fabulous reviews! Of course, there are a great many subscribers who never review :( Please don't be shy! If you read and enjoy this story, I'd really love to hear from you. Knowing that people are being entertained is what motivates me to continue (and to try to do a decent job) ;) There are lots of times when I feel my fic is kinda lame, so it feels so good to hear/read that someone thinks otherwise. So please speak up by reviewing, if you feel so inclined :D**

**Also.. since this story is rapidly wrapping up, don't forget to add me to your Author Alerts if you wish to be notified of any future stories I do! Thanks to a kind suggestion from _Harlequin-Raven,_ I'm already working on a one-shot based on the Sweet-Talking Sweets reference from the last chapter. Woo hoo! That should be fun, yeah? :D**

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	19. Chap18 Surprises & PreWedding Jitters

**Yay for this update being a little longer than the last couple!**

**I still don't own anything, and as always, please forgive me for any typos.**

**This chapter is just a little fluffy but... You know what they say - the calm before the storm, my friends.. ;)**

**Hope you all enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Hello?" I called out as I stood in the empty living-room of the twins' flat. I'd gotten an owl from George, asking me to meet him there after the shop was closed, but he was no where in sight. "Hel-"

"May I help you?" Fred said, strolling casually into the room.

"Oh. Umm," was all I managed to get out in my state of surprise. I hadn't seen Fred since the day he'd walked out of George's room, and I wasn't really sure what I should say to him. For all I knew, he was just as angry with me as he was with George.

"Looking for George?" he offered after several seconds passed without me saying anything else.

I nodded. "I'm supposed to meet him here."

"Well, I reckon he'll be here in just a minute. You can have a seat, if you'd like." He motioned towards the couch, but I stood where I was, frowning at his very polite but stiff demeanor.

"Look, Fred," I said, taking a small step towards him. "I know you're angry and you have every right to be but--"

"Who says I'm angry?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

I responded by shooting him a very similarly confused look. "I saw how upset you were the other day and George told me that you weren't speaking to him."

"Oh. That."

"Yes, _that_. And, honestly Fred, I completely understand that you're angry but please don't keep ignoring George like this. It's really--"

"Hermione.."

"--hurting him and I know it has to hurt you too, and for goodness sakes, George is getting married in _three_ days! You really can't be angry with your twin on his wedding day so--"

"_Hermione_."

"--I don't care what it takes but I want the two of you to make up and I want you to do it today--"

"Hermione!"

"_What_?" I asked, eyes widening at Fred's insistent tone. I hadn't even realized he'd been calling my name.

"It's very sweet that you're worried about us and everything but I'm--"

"Fred Weasley," I interrupted, closing the few feet of distance between us and pointing my index finger at his chest, "don't you dare tell me that you don't want to work things out! George loves you and you love him and it's just ridiculous for you to stay angry with each other because, if there's one thing we all should have learned from this war, it's that life is much too short for that sort of foolishness!"

Fred was watching me, an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Finished yet? May I speak now?" he said, and when I gave him a small nod, he continued. "I was just going to say that it's very sweet of you to be concerned, but _we already made up_."

"You... you did?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Oh," I said rather lamely, my brows knitted in confusion. "So you're speaking again, then?"

"Yeah, I caved in at about two o'clock this morning. Just couldn't stand it anymore..." Fred's voice trailed off and he was silent for just a moment before he suddenly chuckled to himself. "I'm very needy for George's attention, apparently."

My mouth slowly curved up into a smile. "So everything is alright between the two of you now?"

Fred did this odd, half-shrug, nod, _thing_ which I wasn't sure how to interpret. "I still hate that he's keeping something from me," he said. "But I reckon he'll tell me eventually if it's important, right?"

"Yeah," I said, but my smile fell a little. "Right."

"Still very sweet of you to worry about us like that," he said and winked before reaching out to stroke my cheekbone with the back of his hand in a playfully affectionate manner.

"Am I interrupting?" came George's voice, and I looked across the room to see him standing just inside the door, his arms crossed over his chest and an amused smirk on his face as he eyed Fred's hand on my cheek. "I can come back later, if the two of you need a moment..."

"That's quite alright," I said, gently swatting Fred's hand away. "Did you need to see me?"

George's smile widened as he nodded his head. "Come with me," he said, holding a hand out to emphasize his request. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" I asked a little warily, but nonetheless crossed the room and took his hand. Without giving me any type of hint or suggestion as to what my surprise might be, George began to drag me towards the door.

"Oi!" Fred called after our retreating backs. "You better not take all the credit, Georgie! _I helped_!"

Instead of turning left and taking the steps down towards the shop as I'd anticipated, George turned to the right and began to ascend another staircase leading to the third floor of the building, which I'd never given much thought to, assuming it was used as extra storage space or something.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I climbed after him.

He didn't answer me, but we soon came to the third story landing, and he stopped just outside a wooden door, almost identical to the one leading into the twins' flat except that this one had a nice, fresh coat of blue paint. "Hermione," George said, turning around to face me. "Have you given any thought to where we might live after the wedding?"

I clasped a hand over my mouth in an effort to cover my suddenly terrified expression. "No! I haven't!" Even with everything that had happened over the last few weeks, and even considering the overwhelming amount of time spent planning the actual wedding ceremony, how could I have possibly managed to overlook something so important as where we were going to _live_!?

"That's what I thought," George said, chuckling at my panicked state. "Well, you know, we could always live in the flat downstairs with Fred, but, he's technically supposed to be living with Millicent since they're 'married' and all, so we'd never be able to have guests over or they might get suspicious as to why Fred's there all the time and still has his own room."

"Okay..." I said, slowly nodding my head as I followed along with what he was saying.

"And anyway, I thought you might like to have something a little more private, in case you're one of those people who like to walk around completely starkers or something."

I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips at him. "Keep wishing, George Weasley."

"Hey," he said, raising his hands as if to prove his innocence. "All I'm saying is that I want to make sure that you're free to do so, should you ever have the urge, because that's just the kind of considerate bloke I am, " he said, with a mock-serious look on his face.

"You're a ridiculous, shameless _flirt_, is what you are," I said, shaking my head at him, "and I do _not_ just walk around naked so you can get that idea out of your mind this instant."

"You know," he said, leaning towards me and lowering his voice, "the more you try to not think of something, the more your mind _wants_ to think of it." I smacked his arm. "Ow. Alright, alright. But all joking aside, Hermione, you do--" he paused, his gaze dropping to his feet which were nervously shuffling against the floor, "you do want to live together, don't you?"

"That is typically how it works when people get married," I said, chuckling softly at his sudden bashfulness.

"Well, yeah, I know. I just want to make sure you're comfortable with all of this. You can stay up here and I can stay downstairs with Fred or--"

"So there's another flat up here?" I interrupted.

George nodded. "Fred and I have been working on it for a few weeks but I swear it won't hurt my feelings if you don't want to live here. We can go pick out something together if you'd rather do that." He was smiling and he sounded sincere, but I didn't miss the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he thought of moving somewhere else.

"Is it important that you live close to work?"

He shrugged. "I can pop in on the shop anytime I want. I am a wizard, you know," he said, crossing his arms over his chest which he puffed out in a demonstration of self-importance. "I can apparate."

I ignored his sarcastic joke, gently placing a hand on his arm. "Do you want to be close to Fred?"

At this, George exhaled deeply, letting his chest deflate and his arms fall to his sides, and with just the slightest trace of a sad smile, he nodded.

"I'd like to see our new home, then," I said, giving him a smile that I hoped conveyed how truly content and grateful I was, and it must have worked because he shot the same grin right back at me and then he bent over suddenly, using an arm against the back of my knees to knock my feet out from underneath me. I gave a startled shriek, but his other arm was there, catching me and scooping me up and then holding me cradled against his chest. His face was beaming down at mine. "What are you doing?" I asked, laughing rather breathlessly.

"Upholding tradition! Aren't I supposed to carry you over the threshold?"

"Yes, _after_ the wedding!"

"Oh." George's face fell. "Well in that case--" he let his arms give way, and I screamed, scrambling to hold onto him lest I land on my backside on the hard, wooden floor. But George was still holding me securely in place, having only pretended that he was going to drop me, and now he was laughing.

"You really thought I was going to drop you on the floor? Wow. You really think highly of me, don't you, Granger? Now," he said and then paused, balancing me carefully as he reached for the doorknob and pushed the door open, "I'm not particularly attached to anything in here so we can change whatever you don't like, alright?"

******

George spent a few minutes showing me around the living-room, which was decorated very similarly to the twins' flat except that the furniture here seemed a little softer and more subdued than the masculinely modern stuff that was displayed in the twins' living-room. It was nice and cozy and I was sure that with just a few small personal touches, the place would feel like home in no time.

"So what do you think?" George asked, his expression both anxious and hopeful as he waited for my response.

"I think it's wonderful, George."

"Really?"

I nodded, smiling at him. "Really."

"Alright, well, I still have one more surprise for you," he said, and before I could protest, he took hold of my arm and began dragging me down the hallway, towards the back of the flat, and into one of the bedrooms.

I gasped when I realized what I was seeing; the room had been turned into a small library. The walls were lined with bookshelves, a dark, wooden desk sat in one corner, and two plush chairs were neatly arranged in the center with a tall floor lamp in-between.

"What is all of this?" I asked, running an adoring finger down the spines of a book which was nestled in the nearest bookshelf.

"I should think that you, more than anyone, could recognize a library when you see one, Granger," George said, chuckling lightly, but then his voice took on a more serious tone. "I really want to give you a honeymoon--or a _vacation_ if you'd prefer to think of it that way--but the shop is just too busy to leave right now what with kids on summer holiday and all but I swear we can go wherever you want next month, when school has started back. I just wouldn't want to leave Fred to run things all on his own during our busiest--"

"George," I said, cutting off his apologetic explanation.

"I was rambling again, wasn't I?" he asked, and when I nodded, he continued. "Right. Anywho, I wanted to do something for you, and I thought you might like this. I put up a permanent _Muffliato_ charm so that you can read in here without being disturbed by the explosions coming from our lab downstairs, and I figure that you can use this place as your home office whenever you decide what you want to do with your career."

I frowned, feeling a little guilty for still not having an inkling about what I wanted to do for a living. "About that--" I began, but George held up a hand to cut me off.

"No rush. _I mean it_," he added rather forcefully when he saw that I was about to protest. "The shop is doing better than Fred and I ever even imagined, so you just take your time. It's a big decision."

I stared at him, my eyes wide and watery with emotion. "So, this is all for me?" I asked and, without looking, I motioned at all the books and furniture around us.

He nodded. "All yours. I even promise not to come in and bother you unless you invite me inside first," he said, grinning.

"Oh, George," I managed to choke out before I hurled myself against him, wrapping my arms around his waist and hugging him fiercely. "This is the _sweetest_, most _thoughtful_ thing anyone has ever done for me."

"It was nothing, really," he said, trying to be modest, but I could hear the smile in his voice and I could feel the happy little flutter of his heart beating in his chest as he wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me even closer to him. "And besides, you may not be thanking me in a moment."

I leaned back to look at him. "What? Why?"

"Well, because, like our flat downstairs, this place only has two bedrooms. Now that one has been turned into a library, that only leaves one for us to share..." George kept his fingers linked and locked around my back and was staring down at me, watching me very carefully

"But that's not.. I mean.. I always just assumed that we'd.. share a room.." I stuttered, trying not to imagine how pink my cheeks must be. "Did--did you have other plans?"

George's eyes went wide at my question. "What? No!" He cleared his throat before trying again, taking care to speak more calmly this time. "No. I just didn't know what you were thinking or what you wanted. Because I wouldn't mind sleeping on the couch if that'd make you more comfortable."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, forcing a laugh in an attempt to hide my nervousness. "That's just... no. It's fine. Married people share a room. No big deal," I said, shrugging and trying to look confident despite the fact that every single part of my brain was screaming at me that sharing a room and a _bed_ with George--George, my _husband_--was indeed, a _terrifyingly huge deal_!

George was still watching me closely, clearly not having bought my nonchalant act. "Do you want to see it?"

"The bed?" I blurted out, though it sounded more like a high-pitched squeak than actual words.

He raised an eyebrow at me, a slight smirk beginning to form on his lips. "I was actually just referring to our _room_, in general, but yes, you would be able to see the bed while we're in there."

"Oh. Right," I said with another nervous laugh, causing George to just shake his head at me in amusement. "This way," he said, turning me around and then leading me into the room across the hall.

Once inside, George moved aside, allowing me an unobstructed view of the room, and after one quick glance at our new bedroom, I immediately sucked in a sharp breath, coughing and spluttering as I choked on my own saliva.

"Oh, bloody hell," I whispered, and George gasped in surprise.

"How dare you sully our marital chamber with that sort of language, Miss Granger."

"George Weasley, this had better be a joke!"

"A joke?" He placed a hand over his heart and stumbled backwards, pretending to be wounded. "I spent _days_ preparing this place for you, for _us_. Don't you like our little love nest?"

I held my face between my hands, shaking my head in bewilderment as I looked around. The room looked like one of those horridly cheesy, honeymoon suites like I'd seen in a few of the muggle romance movies that my mum used to watch. The walls were bright red, the floor was covered in white, shaggy carpet, and, though I couldn't tell where it was coming from, there was a continuous stream of music--love songs, to be precise--belted out by a man with a deep, sensual voice. Oh, but worst of all, was the bed: big, and heart-shaped and _vibrating_, in the dead-center of the room.

"George," I said in a firm, authoritative voice, but he was busy clutching his sides, overtaken by a fit of wild laughter.

"Ohh, your face! Priceless, Hermione!"

"_George_."

He stood up straight, clearing his throat. "Yes?" He tried to sound innocent but immediately broke into another round of hysteric laughs.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Fix it."

George wiped the happy tears from his eyes as he strode into the center of the room, but instead of drawing his wand and putting everything right, he flopped onto his back in the middle of the atrocious bed. "Oh, I don't know. I think I rather like this thing," he said, his voice shaking slightly from the vibrations.

"You are unbelievable," I said, shaking my head but not able to completely hide the goofy smile that was fighting to form on my lips.

George gave me a bright smile of his own. "Thank you. Now, come here." He reached out, opening his arms to me, inviting me to join him.

"I am not getting anywhere _near_ that thing."

His grin widened. "Yes, you are."

"No, I'm n--eek!" My protest was cut off as George sprang from the bed and lunged at me. I was able to sidestep him once, but I couldn't compete with his quick reflexes, still fine-tuned after all those years as a beater, and he caught me, firmly imprisoning me in his arms and, in spite of my wiggling, giggling protests, he tossed me onto the bed before sitting on the edge just beside me.

"See? Isn't that nice?"

"No," I said, still laughing because the vibrations were tickling me.

George snorted as he watched me squirming in discomfort. "Yeah, my bum is starting to go numb, anyway," he said, and then the bed suddenly became still.

"You're really good at that," I said, turning on my side to face him. "Wandless and unspoken magic, I mean."

George just shrugged. "'S'not that hard."

I chose to ignore his overly-modest remark. "I might not have always approved of the things you and Fred got up to together, but you're very clever. Both of you."

"Ahh. Finally seeing us for the brilliant, handsome, successful, _handsome_, entrepreneurs that we are, eh?"

I playfully rolled my eyes at him, and then we both fell silent for several minutes.

"George?"

"Yeah?"

I took a deep breath, absentmindedly tracing the pattern on the blanket with my finger. "Are you nervous?"

He turned a little so that he could see me better. "About...?"

"Oh, you know," I said with an air of casualness, "getting married?"

"Oh, that," he replied with a smile. "Well, I can't honestly say that I ever imagined I'd be getting married at age twenty. And it will be really weird not living with Fred anymore. And I'm slightly terrified that I'm going to be a really rubbish husband and completely disappoint you." George sighed. "So, yeah, I guess I am a little nervous," he said, but he was smiling again. "You?"

I nodded, frowning deeply. I was already nervous and George's confessions only worried me further.

"Hey," he said, very softly, reaching over and combing a few fingers through my hair. "When have we ever been the types to back down from a challenge?"

I let out a small laugh. "Did you just imply that being married to me is going to be a challenge?"

George winced. "Came out wrong, that did."

"I surely hope so," I said, but my teasing tone indicated that I was feeling a little better, and George smiled at me in earnest.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yes," I said immediately.

"And even though you like to abide by the rules while I live to break them, we still have fun together, don't we?"

"I suppose..."

George cocked an eyebrow at me and then I felt the bed buzz suddenly underneath me, and I let out a shocked, ticklish yelp. "Alright! Yes! We have fun!" I shouted through my giggles.

George was looking rather smug and victorious, as he caused the bed to still again. "So, what more could we ask for? We're friends, we like being around each other, and our kisses are bloody _fantastic_!"

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "They are?"

His face quickly fell. "That was _not_ supposed to be your response to that, Granger. You've wounded my manly ego." His bottom lip was protruding just the slightest bit in an adorable pout.

My mouth slowly curved up into a smile before I started laughing. "You should have seen your face! Priceless!" I said, teasing him in the same way he'd teased me earlier.

"That's your idea of a joke, is it?" he asked, his voice rather high-pitched and affronted. "Should've known. We both know you can't resist my phenomenal kissing abilities," he said, smirking and leaning towards me.

"Oh, I think I could." The fact that I tilted my face towards him for easier access might have suggested otherwise.

"Such a terrible liar, Granger," George whispered against my lips before giving them a swift, sweet peck.

"Yes, well," I mumbled against his mouth and George turned his face slightly to the side so that I could speak clearly. "I think it's safe to say _you're_ the one who can't resist _me_, since it's always you initiating the kisses."

George chuckled as he nuzzled his nose against mine. "Oh and you put up _such_ a fight," he said, pulling back to wink at me before leaning in for another, deeper kiss.

"Oi!" We both jumped at the sound of Fred's voice which was calling out from somewhere at the other end of the flat.

George groaned and pushed himself to a seated position. "I guarantee you that will _not_ be happening often," he said, offering his hand to help me stand.

"We're supposed to be at the burrow for supper in _five_ minutes," Fred called, his voice growing closer by the second. "And I'm not going to get yelled at for being late just because you two are up here having fun without me!" His head peeked around the doorframe just a second later and he grinned when he saw us. "What're you two doing back here, anyway?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Nothing," I said.

While at the exact same time, George said, "Snogging."

I glared at him but he just shrugged his shoulders as Fred chuckled.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Hermione!" Fred said. "I hardly think anyone would mind you kissing the bloke you're about to marry. Hey, did you figure out how to make this thing work?" he asked, walking between George and me and flinging himself onto the bed, sighing contentedly as he snuggled against a pillow.

George smirked at the sight of his brother's relaxed body, and then there was a faint buzzing sound which was immediately accompanied by Fred's loud, startled shout as the mattress began to vibrate and tremble rather vigorously beneath him.

"Blimey, George, make it stop! You know how TICKLISH I AM!" He yelled that last part especially urgently as the speed of the vibrations only seemed to increase.

George, however, didn't seem interested in showing his brother any mercy and Fred only found relief when he finally rolled himself off the wildly-shaking bed and onto the floor, but by that time, George and I were also on the floor, all the three of us sprawled out on that hideous, shaggy carpet, laughing so hard that we were clutching our stomachs and chests and struggling to breathe through our mirth.

We were twenty minutes late for supper.

* * *

**As I said... The calm before the storm... ;)**

**I don't mean to tease.. I just don't want you all thinking that I copped out when it comes to Fred's reaction. The wedding is next, and it will be a happy occasion, but I assure you, Fred's reaction is coming.. :D**

**Reviews are soooo loved. And there are some of you who review fairly often but your PM's are disabled so I can't comment personally.. but I really, really appreciate the time you guys take to let me know you're enjoying the story :D**

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	20. Chapter 19 Mr & Mrs George Weasley

**Sorry this took me a little longer than normal. I really struggled with this chapter for some reason. Argh.**

**Still, this is a lot longer than my last few updates have been, so hopefully that will make up for it a little. **

**I feel like I say that every time.. ha :)**

**Just a reminder.. No smut or graphic stuff, but rated M for sexual discussions and innuendos.. **

**I still don't own anything, I still ask that you forgive me for any typos you might find, and I still hope you all enjoy. ;)**

* * *

Thursday and Friday passed by in such a blur, the days a chaotic whirlwind of last-minute wedding preparations, and I didn't see George again until Friday night when he and Fred came to the burrow for a big, pre-wedding, family supper. And even then, the excited chatter of the Weasley clan prevented us from saying more than a few words to each other throughout the meal, and when everyone was finished eating, Mrs. Weasley began shooing everyone off to their respective beds and houses, insisting that we had a big day ahead of us and could all do with a good night's sleep.

The only conversation George and I had that evening was the one where I threatened him and Fred, promising to devote my life to ruining their fun and pranks if I so much as _suspected_ that they'd been in the presence of a stripper or any other scantily-clad women. Fred, however, assured me that he had no intentions of sharing his twin with anyone as it was their last night living together, and they both promised that their plan to celebrate George's last evening of bachelorhood was an innocent one, involving nothing more than a few games of Exploding Snap and an over-consumption of sweets and Butterbeer, all in the comfort of their own living-room.

So, convinced that the two would behave (as much as a Weasley twin can behave, anyway) and after receiving a gentle peck on the lips from George, I watched the twins leave and then retreated to the room I shared with Ginny where I was left with nothing to do but lie in bed and anxiously wait for the arrival of dawn, and the arrival of my wedding day.

******

The morning came and then passed way too quickly, while still somehow managing to drag on for what felt like eternity, and suddenly, the sun was beginning to sink into the west and I found myself standing outside the burrow, just around the corner from the garden where I knew George was standing with Fred and Percy, in front of his family and our friends who had gathered for our ceremony. I was wearing my long, white wedding gown, with intricate lace overlay and delicate, capped sleeves, my hair was curled and tousled but left down to fall around my neck and shoulders, and I was clutching my bouquet of simple, red roses, with hands that were quite literally shaking with fear.

"Stop it!" Ginny said, smiling as she shifted her own bouquet so that she could place her hands over my trembling ones. "Mum says every bride gets cold feet just before her wedding. It's going to be fine."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to convince myself of that. _Every bride feels like throwing up right before she walks down the isle, too, right?_ Ugh. The unpleasant rolling sensation in my stomach told me that I shouldn't even be thinking the words "throw" and "up" in the same sentence at the moment. _Just cold feet. Just cold feet. It could be worse. It could be Malfoy up there waiting for me. _I shuddered._ It's just George. I can do this. It's going to be fine._

The faint, tinkling sound of harp music met my ears and I opened my eyes. Ginny's smile had widened and she gave a small, excited squeal before pulling me in for a quick hug, taking care not to wrinkle our dresses or crush our flowers. When she pulled away, I could see that her eyes were glistening just the slightest bit but she laughed and then spun away from me, her knee-length, crimson-colored dress fluttering out around her legs as she did so, and then she walked away, disappearing around the corner of the house and into the garden, where she would then make her way to stand up front with her brothers while everyone awaited my arrival. _Oh, Merlin, help me_.

"Hermione?" Harry said, standing in front of me and placing a steadying hand on each of my arms. "You alright?"

I laughed nervously. "How is it that, after everything we've been through these last several years, _this_ is the most terrified I've ever felt?"

"That's... that's normal... I think..." Harry stuttered, trying to comfort me even though he was clearly at a loss for what to say in this situation. "But I--um--I think Ginny has had enough time to make it to the front, so we should probably get going before George gets the impression that you're leaving him at the altar."

I swallowed and nodded, and with another deep, shaky breath, I linked my arm in his. My legs felt heavy and wobbly as we turned the corner of the house, and I tightened my grip on Harry, feeling almost certain that I was about to lose consciousness.

But then we came into view of the garden, and I saw the friendly faces of the people gathered there. I saw the Weasleys--Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie and Ron, all wearing excited smiles, and an emotional lump lodged itself in my throat as I realized that they looked happy because they _wanted_ _me_ as part of their family. There was Ginny, waiting for me up front, no longer trying to hide the fact that she was tearing up, and the lump in my throat thickened when I realized that the smart, fiery red-head who'd been the closest girl-friend I'd ever had, was about to become my sister. There was Percy, looking like... well, Percy: glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, a slightly smug, superior air about him, but even he was looking rather cheerful and content. Then there was Fred, wearing a wide, happy grin and standing so close to his twin that their upper arms were pressed together in what appeared, to me at least, to be some unspoken (and probably subconscious) display of support and encouragement for George.

And so, at last, my gaze settled on my husband-to-be, and as I looked at George, saw him smiling softly as he stared back at me, saw the gentle humor in his eyes when he winked at me, I realized that, yes, I _could_ do this. Not only was I was marrying into the Weasleys, a kind, considerate, and loving group of people who'd made me feel like I belonged the moment we'd become acquainted, but, more importantly, I was marrying a good man. I was marrying someone I considered a friend, someone I knew would respect me and be there for me in all the ways that really mattered. George might be infuriating and cocky and silly at times, but I'd learned that he could also be sensitive and caring and even pragmatic when the occasion calls for it. I knew that he would try my patience and push me to my limits with his practical jokes and teasing nature, but he would make me laugh, he would challenge me to loosen up and enjoy life, he would be there when I needed him and...

And then I heard a few mumbles and good-natured snickers and I realized that I'd been standing there for quite some time.

"Sorry," I whispered to Harry who was beginning to fidget under everyone's stares.

"'S'okay," he whispered back. "I'm just glad you don't look like you're going to pass out anymore. You ready?"

Still staring at George, I nodded.

I remembered hearing my mum say that her wedding to my dad had passed by in such a blur that she wouldn't have remembered any of it if it weren't for the fact that they had it on tape, and I'd always thought that sounded silly. I'd never understood how anyone could forget _any_ part of their wedding day... But I quickly found out.

I was still nervous (though now I was mostly concerned about tripping over my dress or doing something else equally humiliating in front of such a large crowd) and even though I felt exponentially better than I had earlier, I still couldn't concentrate properly. Percy could have been asking me to pledge my life to the almighty llama-god of Sacagawea for all I knew; _that's_ how much of a "blur" the ceremony was.

Until we were pronounced man and wife and the time came for us to kiss, that is. I _clearly_ heard Percy deliver that line, and I couldn't help but cast a quick, uncomfortable glance at all the people who were watching us, waiting to see us in liplock. I'd never given it much thought before but it suddenly seemed like quite an invasion of privacy. George, of course, seemed to have no such qualms about the situation, and he stepped towards me, peering down into my face and grinning madly as he wrapped one arm around my waist and wrapped the other one around my shoulders, using that hand to support the back of my head.

"What are you doing?" I whispered when he continued to stand there, smiling at me.

"Just wondering how badly you're going to hex me for what I'm about to do."

"_George_," I said, warning him, but his grin only grew bigger and before I could say or do anything else, he was dipping me backwards, so close to the ground that I could smell the sun-warmed grass, and he kissed me soundly for several, _long_ seconds before finally releasing my lips with an exaggerated _mmmmuahh_ sound. We stayed that way for a moment, and I could see an upside-down Ginny, covering a hand over her mouth as she laughed and when I turned my head slightly, I saw that she was certainly not alone in her amusement. It seemed that everyone, (well, everyone but Fleur, that is) had joined in the laughter. Finally, George straightened back up, taking me with him and placing me safely on my feet again. My cheeks burned with embarrassed heat.

"You're going to pay for that," I said but, even though I meant every single word of that threat, I found myself smiling.

He chuckled. "It was worth it."

"Ahem," came the not-so-subtle sound of Percy clearing his throat to get our attention, and when we both turned our heads to look at him, he gave us a very un-Percy-like smirk and then gazed out at our assembled friends and family. "I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. George Weasley."

******

The sun had set and only a faint, pinkish glow remained in the west of the otherwise dark, evening sky, but the garden was beautifully illuminated by the silver and white paper lanterns hanging from the boughs of the trees all around us, and the air was filled with the sounds of soft chatter, clinking glasses, and slow, sweet music.

"You look really, _really_ amazing, Hermione," George said, pulling back slightly to look at me as we moved and swayed across the garden in what was already our third or fourth dance as husband and wife. "Which isn't to say that you don't _always_ look amazing, because you do. You're just looking exceptionally beautiful tonight."

I shook my head at him, but couldn't stop the huge smile that was spreading over my face.

"Ahh," George said, beaming back at me, "and _that_ is why. I don't think I've ever seen you smile this much. You look happy. Like you're having fun, even."

"Oh, and that surprises you, does it?" I said, playfully rolling my eyes. "I do actually like to have fun, you know. I'm not just an uptight, book-wormish, stick-in-the-mud."

He laughed at that. "I know. I always reckoned you just needed someone who could convince you to loosen up and live a little. Lucky for you, you have _me, _now, to help with that." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose as our dance came to an end. I could hear cheers and applause all around us, and I was completely confident that the sniffles I heard were coming from Mrs. Weasley. "Fred and I will have you pulling pranks and breaking rules like a regular Weasley twin before you know it!"

"That we will!" said Fred, slinging an arm over George's shoulder as he joined us.

"Just what I've always dreamed of," I deadpanned.

"We know," Fred said with a wink. "Now, if you don't mind, brother dearest, I'd like to dance--" here Fred paused, removing his arm from George and wrapping it around my waist instead, "with my new wife-in-law."

"_What_?" George and I said at the same time. The only difference was that George was laughing while I sounded more than a little unnerved.

"Wife-in-law," Fred repeated. "You _did_ just marry my identical twin," he said to me, as if that explanation made all the sense in the world. "And wife-in-law sounds so much more promising than sister-in-law, don't you think?"

"Fred, mate," George said, shaking his head but wearing a smile of amusement and adoration for his brother, "you're not right."

Fred just shrugged, giving George the same smile. "So, may I steal her for a bit?"

"S'fine with me. If she'll have you, of course."

Fred turned to me. "Dance with me?" he said, and when I continued to glare at him for whatever insinuations I imagined were included in his "wife-in-law" comments, he stuck his bottom lip out and raised his eyebrows, pouting at me. "Please? You would be doing me a tremendous favor. I'd get to hold a pretty girl _and_ I could avoid being pulled in by mum again. She keeps hugging us and crying over us all and calling us her 'babies' and I swear I can't take it anymore. Save me, please?"

"Fine," I said, trying not to smile at him.

George waved goodbye to us as Fred dragged me off to an open place to dance, and Fred and I both laughed when just a moment later we saw George being pulled into what looked like a painfully-tight hug by their mum.

"You two look really happy," Fred said, looking down at me after we'd been dancing for several minutes. "I don't know that I ever would have pictured you together before all this marriage law stuff started but, you really fit somehow."

"Thank you, I... I think you're right," I said a little timidly, still getting used to the idea of being in love with George Weasley.

"You know," Fred began, and I watched as his gaze traveled to and then settled on his twin. "I was always a bit afraid of what it would be like when George and I actually had to grow up and move out and move on and start living our own lives separate from each other..."

"He's not _moving on_ from you, Fred."

"What? No, I know. What I was trying to say, is just that I've always been a little scared of what would happen when we had to let someone else into our relationship." He paused, cocking his head and smiling softly as he examined the wedding band now visible on my left hand which was resting on his right forearm. He looked back up at me and then over to George again. His eyes suddenly glazed over and then he shook his head, laughing at himself.

"Sorry," he said, roughly clearing his throat. "I'm no good at this sentimental, emotional _stuff_. I just wanted you to know that... I'm glad it's you. You actually seem to get us and understand what we are to each other, and tonight is the happiest that I've seen George in months." He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. Being so open and serious seemed a little difficult for him, but then he smiled again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he did so, and he leaned forward to kiss the top of my head. "I'm really glad you're his wife."

Not surprisingly, I found that my eyes were tearing up, too. "Thank you, Fred," I said, and then I stepped in closer and wrapped my arms around him to truly hug him. "I'm glad you're my _brother_-in-law." To emphasize the word "brother" I gave him a firm poke to the ribs, which made him yelp and squirm, causing me to start laughing.

"I'm not quite sure what I'm interrupting, here," came George's amused-sounding voice, "but you two certainly seem to be enjoying yourselves."

"No," Fred said, gasping for breath and pushing me away, holding me at arm's length as I attempted to continue my assault on his ribs. "She's tickling me! Take her back!"

"Gladly," George said, and suddenly his arms were wrapped around me, pinning my own to my sides, and he lifted me up and pulled me backwards until I could no longer reach Fred. "Oh, before I forget," he said, putting me down but still embracing me from behind, "dad and Percy told me to congratulate you and welcome you to the family again on their behalf."

I frowned, confused. "Did they leave?"

George's chin was resting on my shoulder and I could feel him nodding his head. "There was some sort of emergency at the ministry. They got called in."

"What?" Out of habit, I surveyed the garden, sighing with relief when I saw that Harry was perfectly safe, laughing and talking with Ginny and Charlie.

"Nothing serious, I'm sure," Fred offered.

"Right," George agreed. "Dad would've told us if it was anything for us to worry about. Now," he grabbed me and spun me around to face him, "are you ready to go home?"

For the second time that evening, I felt so nervous that I thought I might very well pass out. "Home?"

"Yes," George said, grinning. "You know, that place where we keep all our things? The place where I can change out of this?" He tugged at his collar to illustrate what he meant. "Most of our guests have already left and I don't know about you but this whole wedding thing has left me pretty exhausted."

"Oh." We had talked to everyone, we'd danced several times, and my feet _were_ starting to hurt pretty badly... "Yeah. Sure. We can go."

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

"Okay, good. This tux is driving me crazy," he said, running a hand through his hair and letting out a relieved-sounding laugh.

"Well," Fred said, grinning as he looked back and forth between George and me. "I'll just go get your broom, then." He turned and headed for the storage shed, but not before giving his twin a wink which clearly said something like "_Congratulations on your wedding, fly safely, and go have crazy sex with your new bride_."

Getting on a broom was at the very bottom of my list of things to be terrified of at that moment...

*****

The broom-ride from the burrow to the flat seemed to go by much more quickly than it had when I'd been with Fred, and before I knew it, George was once again scooping me up and carrying me over the threshold into our new home, insisting that it had to be done again since we were truly/legally/magically _married_ this time.

"Welcome home, wifey!" he said, smiling happily as he put me on my feet.

I gave a tiny, quiet laugh, too nervous to even scold him for the silly pet-name, and then, without any proper warning or notice, George began loosening his tie, unbuttoning the top button of his collar, and he headed towards the back of the flat._ Towards the_ _bedroom_...

I stayed, as if glued to the spot where I was standing. "Wh-where are you going?"

"To change." He turned around to look at me but continued to walk backwards as he spoke. "I know I look good in this--" there was an arrogant smile on his face as waved a hand at himself, "--but I'm really beginning to feel like this tie is trying to choke me." He'd reached the door to our room, but he paused there, watching me carefully. "You can come too, you know," he finally said, and I was amazed by how casual he sounded. "If you want," he added, with a carefree shrug of his shoulders.

Even though he was still standing in the hallway, his nimble fingers were already working on undoing the knot of his tie, and when he started on the remaining buttons of his shirt, even though all that was revealed was the undershirt beneath it, I suddenly felt the need to sit down. Not that I could do that very comfortably, though, since I was still wearing my wedding dress, so I chose to grip the back of the couch to support myself, instead.

George must have seen the terror in my eyes because he chuckled softly. "I'm not getting naked, Hermione; I'm just getting ready for bed. You won't see any more skin than you would if we were going swimming together."

I raised an eyebrow at him and crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't trust the little twitch at the corner of his mouth, giving away the fact that he was fighting back a smile. "And by 'swimming' I'm sure you mean skinny dipping?"

He let out a loud, genuinely amused laugh. "Not quite what I was thinking, but I like that that's the first place your mind went. You know, I don't have a lake or an ocean anywhere around here but there _is_ a rather large bathtub just through that door if you're interested..." he trailed off, nodding his head towards the bathroom located just across the hall from where he was standing.

I was pretty sure he was joking but I suddenly couldn't look him in the eye. "George..."

"Oh, come on. You know I was only kidding," he said, but then quickly added, "unless you really are interested, in which case I am very, _very_ serious."

I bit my bottom lip as it started to tremble. I couldn't do this. I didn't know the first thing about sex. I mean, I knew the science of it all, but nothing more than that, and I was realizing that getting married doesn't magically enlighten one in the ways of being sexual. Perhaps it was naive of me, but that's what I'd been hoping for. I'd put off thinking about this moment as much as I could, in the hopes that when it arrived, I'd somehow just know what to do and what to say, but now the moment was here and, not only was I still utterly clueless, but now I was also feeling pressured to live up to everything I'd always thought the "wedding night" was supposed to be. I tucked my chin into my chest, hoping that by turning my face to the ground, George wouldn't see that my eyes were welling up with tears.

But he did see and he sighed sadly. "Come here."

I shook my head, not looking up.

"Please, Hermione? I know you feel uncomfortable right now, but it'll only get worse if we don't deal with this. Please?"

I looked up at him, chewing on my lip and shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I tried to decide what to do.

George held his hand out to me, inviting me to take it and join him. "It's just a bedroom. There's nothing in there to be afraid of." When he realized I still wasn't moving, he dropped his hand, but he smiled. "What if I promise to keep my hands and, ah, all other body parts, to myself? What if I keep at least twelve inches of space between us at all times? I'll even stand in the corner, blindfold myself, _and_ cover my eyes while you change. Would that help?"

I pursed my lips in an attempt to stop it, but it was no use... I laughed. Loudly. For several seconds. And then, his sense of humor making me feel much more at ease, I walked down the hall, gave George a playful shove as I passed him, and then I made my way into our new room.

Once inside, George made quick (and serious) work of removing everything except for the t-shirt and boxers he'd be wearing to sleep in, he showed me where all of our clothes and toiletries were, and then he [rather conveniently] left the room to brush his teeth while I changed. When he came back, I was wearing my pajamas and sitting cross-legged on the bed (which was now, thankfully, rectangular in shape and _non_-vibrating.)

"George?"

"Mm?" He didn't look at me as he patted and fluffed his pillow.

"I was thinking about what you said... about this getting even more uncomfortable if we don't just deal with it." My voice went up in pitch at the end like a question.

George was now folding back the blanket and getting ready to climb in but he still didn't look at me as he spoke. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And, I think you're right."

"'Course I am."

I sighed. "What I mean is," I paused and took a deep breath before continuing, "this probably isn't going to get any easier for me so... Ithinkweshouldhavesexnow."

He froze, and then slowly tilted his head to look at me. "I'm sorry?" A tiny grin crept over his face. "Did you just say you think we should have sex now?" And then he started laughing.

I dropped my gaze to the bedspread and busied myself by tracing an imaginary design on it with my index finger. "That wasn't supposed to be funny..." I could only imagine how pink my face must have been just then.

"Oh, Hermione," George said, still sounding slightly amused as he flopped down on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and sitting right beside me. "I wasn't laughing at you. You just caught me a bit off guard, is all."

I looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. "I caught you off guard by suggesting we have... sex... on our wedding night?"

"It's not that," he said and it was obvious he was trying to refrain from laughing again at the way my voice and gaze both dropped when I said that word, but when he spoke, his voice was gentle and patient. "It's just, I can count on one hand the number of times we've _kissed_ and--"

"But it's our wedding night," I interrupted. "We're supposed to... _consummate_."

George snorted. "Alright, first of all, please don't say 'consummate' because that makes it sound like some sort of business arrangement. And second of all, considering the--" he paused for a moment, clearly trying to think of a specific word, "--_circumstances_ that brought us together--"

"Meaning that we were forced into this marriage in a matter of weeks instead of dating and falling in love and discussing marriage over several months or even years like a normal couple?"

"Erm, yeah. Yes," George said, looking at me like he was trying to figure out if he'd said the wrong thing and upset me. "But the thing is, I... Well, I really... I think I..." George's head drooped just a bit, his gaze darted off somewhere across the room, and suddenly he was the one blushing.

"George?"

He cleared his throat loudly and when he looked at me again, he looked a little more confident, in spite of the the fact that he was rubbing the back of his neck in the way I'd realized he only did when he was nervous about something. "I care about you, is all. Always have, of course, but the way I feel about you today is completely different from the way I felt about you three weeks ago. I really like the way things are between us right now and I don't want to mess it up by rushing into things before you're completely ready for them, and I certainly don't want to have sex just because it's our wedding night and you feel like it's something you _have_ to do."

To say I was surprised and touched by his thoughtfulness would be an understatement. "So what would you suggest then?"

"Well," he said, smiling back at me, "I would suggest that we just continue on as we have been and let things happen when they happen."

"And you're really okay with that? You're willing to not have sex on your wedding night just to make sure that I'm comfortable? George, that's really--"

"Sweet? Sensitive? Caring? Amazingly considerate?"

"Well, yes," I said, but I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I know," he said, and then he winked at me. "All part of my plan to seduce you, Granger."

I bit my lip, stifling a giggle. "_Weasley_."

"Yes?"

"No, no, no." I shook my head, grinning at him. "You called me Granger. My name is Weasley now."

"What?" George stared at me, a confused expression on his face, but then his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, bloody hell. Now _that_ is going to take some getting used to. Of course, I always figured you'd be a Weasley some day, I just never imagined you'd be _my_ Weasley."

"We're not honestly going to talk about Ronald are we?" I said, scrunching up my nose. My ex-boyfriend and George's little brother was hardly what I wanted to be thinking and/or talking about just then.

George pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow at me. "Absolutely not. And I love the little git and I can respect your friendship, but I don't ever again want to hear you say his name while you're lying in _our_ marriage bed, understood?" George was smirking now and I rolled my eyes at his threat but drew my hand across my mouth like I was pulling a zipper shut. "Good. Now, time for sleep, yeah?"

"Sounds fantastic," I said, lying back and rolling over as George pulled the covers up over us. With a wave of his hand, he turned the lights out, and then he settled down onto his side so that we were facing each other.

"George?" I whispered after several silent seconds had passed.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that you could... Do you think that I could have..." I wasn't sure how to word my request as it was something I'd never really asked for before.

"A glass of water? Another pillow? A pony?" I could practically hear the smile in his voice. "You're going to have to learn to just spit it out, Hermione. Mind reading has never been my strong suit."

I groaned to convey my annoyance but he just laughed. "Fine. Will you kiss me goodnight?"

I expected him to laugh and tease me some more, but instead he just said, "Love to," and then he was right beside me, planting a series of soft, sweet kisses on my lips. "Goodnight, _Weasley_," he whispered, giving my cheek one final kiss before he returned to his previous spot on the bed and snuggled down into the mattress again.

"George?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure you're alright with this? You're alright with us waiting?"

"Promise," he said, his voice beginning to sound low and sleepy. "Now don't think about it so much. Just relax and let me work my charms and before you know it, you'll be _begging_ me to have my wicked way with you."

"Honestly, George..." I said, huffing like I thought he was being ridiculous. But, the truth was, something about the way those words sounded coming from his lips had my stomach doing flips.

George chuckled softly, like he could tell what I was thinking and feeling. "G'Night," he said again.

"Goodnight."

I rolled over onto my back, sighing as I stared up into the dark ceiling. I knew that I was tired and that I should easily be able to fall asleep, but I _couldn't_ because my head was suddenly filled with _those_ sorts of images of myself and George.

"Hey, George?"

He gave a loud, belly laugh. "What is it, _Fred_?"

"What?" I asked, rolling onto my side again to face him, even though he was little more than a shadowy silhouette in the darkness. "I don't get it. Are you asleep? Do you know who I am?"

"Of course, I do," he said, still laughing. "You're my darling little wifey who is acting an awful lot like my twin at the moment. Fred always does that, you know--calls my name and wants to talk just as I'm falling asleep."

"Oh... Sorry."

"Nah, don't be. I rather like knowing that the two of you are so needy for my attention," he said, only chuckling more when I reached over and swatted his arm. "Now, what did you need?"

"I'm just... I'm curious..." There was a long silence and I knew that George was waiting for me to explain myself. "What will it--umm, sex, I mean--what will it be like?"

He was quiet for a moment, and the only thing I could hear was the rustling of the sheets as he slid closer to me. "It will probably be a bit awkward at first," he said, just as his hand found mine under my pillow.

"Awkward?"

"Mm-hmm." He laced his fingers with mine. "And clumsy." He wrapped his other arm around my waist.

"Clumsy," I repeated. "George, you do realize that you're not making me feel any better about this, don't you?"

"Hermione," he said, chuckling again as he pulled me towards him, "please just stop worrying about it. Whenever it happens, it's going to be fantastic, alright? I assure you that in spite of any initial awkwardness or clumsiness, I'll see to it that you enjoy yourself, okay?"

I allowed myself to be pulled into him, until the fronts of our bodies were pressed against each other, and I snuggled my face against his throat, but frowned as I was doing so. "Have I ever told you how incredibly cocky you are?" His only response was an amused little _hum_, which inspired an indignant gasp from me. "George Weasley, you know what I meant!"

He snorted a laugh. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

"You're really infuriating sometimes," I mumbled against his collarbone.

"So I've heard," he said, and even as I was thinking of something else to say, I felt my body being relaxed by the steady sound of his breathing, comforted by the way he was petting my hair, and I drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and warm wrapped up in his arms.

* * *

**Oh my goodness.. ONE CHAPTER LEFT! :( I can't believe it.. Don't forget to add me to your "Author Alerts" list if you want to be notified of anything I write in the future! I plan to post the Sweet-Talking Sweets one-shot shortly after I post the final chapter of this fic.**

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**Thank y'all so much for reading! The next week will be a bit hectic with the holidays and all but I'll be back soon with the final update!**


	21. Chapter 20 One of Us now

**Thanks for being patient! I was playing host to a house-full of family last week during the holiday so it took me a little while to get this finished.**

**But finished it is! This is it! The final chapter! *Sniffle***

**There were a few people who were skeptical about this story being wrapped up in this one chapter, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. This was the ending I had planned all along, so I hope it's satisfactory. **

**I still don't own anything, and please forgive any mistakes you find.**

**Hope you enjoy :)**

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I became aware in my still-half-asleep state that I was feeling a little chilly, so I wiggled across the bed, searching for the warm body that I knew had been there earlier. I reached out with my hand, expecting to find a comforting arm to wrap myself up in, but instead of soft flesh, I ended up with a fistful of cold sheets. That disappointment brought me fully awake.

"George?" I said, my voice soft and raspy after hours of disuse. There was no answer.

I reached across the bed, stretching out until my fingers found the edge of the mattress, and I frowned when I realized that I was completely alone. Sitting up and looking around, I saw that the bedroom door was open just a crack and there was a faint sliver of light coming through. I knew that George might have just gotten up for a glass of water, but the total silence of the flat filled me with an inexplicable uneasiness so, I crawled out of bed and padded barefoot out of the room.

The light grew brighter as I walked down the hall, and I soon found that it was coming from a nice, crackling fire that had been built in the fireplace in the living-room, and that's where I found George. He was sitting on the couch, hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, and his hands clasped together in front of him, his entire body completely still. He was staring into the flames and, though he wasn't making a sound, there was a steady stream of tears trailing down both cheeks, the wetness on his face shimmering with the reflection of the soft, orange light from the fire. My breath caught painfully in my chest at the sight of him.

"George?"

He jumped slightly, immediately bringing an arm up and using the back of his wrist to wipe the moisture away from his face. "Hey, um--" He paused to clear his throat. "Sorry. I didn't hear you get up."

"Are you alright?" I asked, slowly and tentatively.

"Absolutely spiffing," he said and then gave me a weak smile. "Can't you tell?"

I made my way across the room and sat down beside him on the sofa. "Do you want to talk about it?"

George seemed to consider that for a second, but then he just shrugged his shoulders.

"That's okay," I said, scooting closer to him. "We don't have to talk." I reached out and grabbed his hand from where it was resting in his lap and I brought it to my lips, placing a gentle kiss against his knuckles. "We can just sit here."

George's eyes watched me from under his ginger fringe, one corner of his mouth turning up just the tiniest bit when I kissed his hand, and then, with our hands still clasped together, we both turned our heads and stared into the fire.

"Have I mentioned," George began, after several minutes had passed, "that I haven't had a single night of uninterrupted sleep since the night of the final battle?"

I shifted in my seat to look at him once again. "No," I said, gently shaking my head. "I didn't know that."

"You remember that night you found me having a nightmare on the couch downstairs?"

I nodded, recalling the pitiful way he'd trembled and cried out in his sleep, begging someone not to leave him. "Is that why you're up? You're still having nightmares?"

George sighed, his shoulders slumping as he did. "Every night. Always about Fred." He paused for a moment and I watched as his gaze traveled to our intwined hands. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer. "Until tonight, anyway."

When he noticed my puzzled expression, he dropped his gaze to the floor and took in a deep, shaky breath before he began to explain himself. "Started out the same, of course. The explosion. The debris. Seeing Fred lying on the ground under all those stones... dead." George's eyes had filled with fresh tears and he raised his free hand to wipe away the few that had escaped. "But this time--" he began again, his voice cracking and then dropping to a whisper, "--this time it was you, too. You and Fred were both lying there and there was nothing I could do for either of you." He finally turned so that he was looking me directly in the eyes. "I lost Fred, like I always do in my dreams, but this time, I lost you too."

I tried to swallow over the emotional lump in my throat; I opened my mouth to try to say something, anything, but, for possibly the first time in my life, I was at a complete loss for words. His pain was so palpable--so deep--that I felt there was nothing I could say to ease it. Feeling hopeless, I removed my hand from his and reached up, using my thumbs to brush his tears away even as my vision was becoming blurry with tears of my own.

"Need you," he said simply, eyelids fluttering shut as he nuzzled at my palm with the side of his face. "_Love_ you." We both froze, and George opened his eyes again, watching me carefully, trying to gauge my reaction as he repeated himself in a soft whisper. "I love you."

Something seemed to burst inside my heart at that moment, flooding me with overwhelming feelings of pain and sympathy, comfort and trust, sorrow and joy, compassion and need and love--yes, definitely love--and it suddenly didn't matter that I didn't know the right words to comfort George, because _he loved me_. He loved me and I loved him and showing him what I was feeling was now the most important thing in the entire universe. So I kissed him.

I kissed him with everything I had (and probably a little more) and I wasn't worried about how he would respond because he was already kissing back with a frenzied desperation that easily out-rivaled the kiss we'd shared against the wall downstairs.

And then he pulled back.

"Wait," he said, breathing heavily as he tried to put some distance between us, something that was rather difficult for him to do since I only moved closer and continued to kiss him. "When I said I _need_ you... I just meant... Ohh--" his neck arched slightly as I pressed a kiss to the tender spot where his jaw met with the bottom of his ear, "--I didn't necessarily mean... Hermione..." He trailed off, seeming to have a difficult time concentrating, but when I pulled away, just long enough to shift in my seat to get a better angle, he took advantage, grabbing me by the shoulders and pinning me against the back of the couch so that I couldn't reach him.

"Now, sit still for just a minute," he said, laughing. "I can't think properly with you kissing me like that."

"What is there to think about?" I asked, struggling in vain against his hold. "I want to do this."

He quirked a curious eyebrow at my eagerness. "You want to do _what_, exactly?"

"_This_," I said, motioning between us as if that should be enough to explain what I meant. When he made no moves to return his lips to mine, I sighed and continued. "Everything."

"Everything," he repeated slowly, and then his eyes widened with realization. "E-everything? Hermione, if this is just some misguided attempt to console me or something, I'm already feeling better so we really don't have to--"

"I know," I interrupted. "But I want to," I said and when he still looked hesitant, I added, "I love you, too, George."

His eyes went even wider. "_What_? Since when?"

"Well," I began, with a nervous little laugh, "I've known since Tuesday night when I realized I couldn't look at a carrot without it reminding me of you."

George watched me for a moment, a thoughtful (and amused) expression on his face, before finally saying, "I honestly have no idea how to respond to that."

"Good," I said, my attention already refocusing on his mouth. "Because I really think you need to be doing a little less talking and a little more _having your wicked way with me_," I blurted that last part out, quoting his earlier words without even thinking of what I was saying, and I clapped a hand over my mouth in surprise at myself, my cheeks flushing as George's confused expression gave way to a sly grin.

"Well who am I to deny my darling little wifey of anything...?" he said, letting his voice fade away as he pulled my hand from my mouth and slowly closed the gap between us.

We kissed again, slowly and sweetly, savoring those first few moments after our confessions of love, but the kiss quickly progressed into something deeper and more demanding, and soon lips were seeking out necks and ears and collarbones and then we were horizontal on the couch; hands clutching at hands, fingers tugging on hair and grasping at the thin fabric of pajamas, and I think that might have been the point when George lost his shirt but everything was so warm and hazy and utterly fabulous that I really wasn't sure of much of anything. Except that I wanted more of it all.

"_George_," I said, and it came out in a breathy whisper that I hadn't even known I was capable of producing.

"Love you. So beautiful," was the equally-breathy response that was whispered directly against my ear, and I shivered.

And then I heard a gentle _whooshing_ sound, and for a moment I thought it was just the blood rushing and pounding in my head from the excitement of everything I was experiencing, but the _whoosh_ grew louder and I turned my head to the side just in time to see the flames in the fireplace glow bright green. The next few seconds passed in chaos, with George falling to the floor in surprise at my screams as I watched a tall figure stumble out of the fireplace, coughing slightly as he stood and dusted the soot from his clothes and from his shaggy, ginger hair...

"Nice dismount, Georgie," Fred said, chuckling even as he continued to cough. "Might want to work on sticking your landing, though."

"Bloody hell, Fred," George said, pulling himself from the floor to his feet. "What are you _doing_?"

"Coming to see _you_, obviously." Fred stooped over to retrieve the t-shirt which was hanging on one corner of the coffee table, and then tossed it to George. "We really need to talk."

"And it couldn't wait until the morning?" George's hands were busy trying to turn his shirt right-side-out again but here he paused and turned to me. "I swear I made him promise to give advance notice before coming up here."

I nodded at him and then tried to hide my face behind my hair, feeling far too embarrassed to be angry yet.

Fred frowned at his twin. "_Unless_ it's an emergency."

"Is there an emergency?" George asked, tugging his shirt on and looking slightly worried now.

"Well, what I have to say only affects the outcome of the_ rest of my life_. Is that important enough for you?" Fred said, looking rather annoyed. "And, for the record, I didn't mean to interrupt." His face softened and he smiled slightly as he looked back and forth between George and me. "Didn't know I'd walk in on you lot going at it on the couch at 3:30 in the morning. Not that there's anything wrong with a little variety, mind you, but I figured your first night would be spent in that nice, new bed back there." Then his face lit up like he'd just thought of something, and he said, "unless the two of you are trying to christen every room in the place?" He finished with a snort of laughter when he saw the way I was blushing.

George sighed and gave me an apologetic frown before turning his attention back to Fred. "So what's this life-altering situation that we need to discuss?"

Fred's eyes lit up as and he shoved a hand into his pocket, digging around for a moment before producing a few folded up pieces of parchment. "See this, brother dearest?" When George nodded, Fred continued. "This is the key to my eternal happiness!" George and I both raised our eyebrows at him but Fred just smiled and walked around the coffee table, placing the top sheet of parchment in George's hands before taking a seat in the armchair beside the sofa.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning over to get a glimpse of the writing on the page.

George was busy reading so Fred answered for him. "It's from Percy. The marriage law has been repealed." If Fred tried to grin any wider, his face may have split in two.

"Repealed?" I said.

Fred nodded. "Repealed. Revoked. Nullified. Retracted. Terminated. Invalidat--"

"You don't have to marry Millicent," George said, looking over the top of the page and smiling at Fred who was bouncing happily in his seat.

"I don't have to marry Millicent!"

The twins sat there, beaming at each other, completely oblivious to the way my brow was furrowed in confusion. "Wait. If this is true, wouldn't we have heard about it?"

"It just happened, Hermione!" Fred said in an usually perky tone. "Percy thought I should be 'notified immediately'--" he said this in his best pompous-Percy impression, "--because he knows all about my situation with Millicent but the official letters from the Ministry will be sent out first thing in the morning."

"Oh," I said lamely, but then I had another thought and I felt a dull pang in my heart when I looked over at George. "So what does this mean for us?"

George gave me a soft smile and reached for my hand but Fred spoke first.

"Well," he began, "it seems that the ministry is going to allow anyone married under the marriage law to get an annulment. _But_," he said, leaning forward in his seat and smirking at George and me, "only if they haven't shagged yet. If you've shagged, you've quite literally sealed the deal and your marriage is both legally and magically binding. If you haven't, the ministry will grant you a free pass out of the relationship if you want it."

Fred glanced back and forth between us for a moment with raised, questioning eyebrows but, when he noticed the uncomfortable glances George and I were sneaking at each other, he frowned and dropped the issue.

I gently cleared my throat and tried to look casual before speaking. "Did Percy say _why_ they've decided to revoke the marriage law?"

"Yeah," Fred said, his expression darkening. "The ministry was having such a hard time getting people to accept the stupid law that, apparently, the Minister thought it would help if the officials followed it too. To set an example for the public, you know?"

I nodded, remembering Mr. Weasley mentioning something about that just a few nights earlier.

"And the ministry officials were having none of it, eh?" George said, narrowing his eyes. "Hypocritical gits."

"Mm." Fred nodded his head in agreement. "But it gets worse. Percy says that when the minister's right-hand-man saw who he was matched with, he went completely mental." Fred paused, leaning forward even further in his chair. "You know that 'emergency' dad and Percy were called in to help with earlier tonight? The man was trying to _off_ himself; said he'd rather die than marry whatever old hag they paired him with. All the ministry officials were called in to try to help talk him out of going through with it."

"Wow," George said, with a humorless laugh. "Bit dramatic, innit? To off yourself just because you don't like the bird you're supposed to marry?"

"Yes, well," Fred said, frowning at his brother, "we can't all be as fortunate as you, now can we?" He gave me a wink before continuing. "I, for one, can't say I blame the man."

George snorted incredulously. "_What_?"

"If we couldn't come up with a permanent solution and I'd been forced to really marry Millicent--" Fred's eyes were wide and he was shaking his head like just the thought was making him feel ill, "--a self-aimed killing curse might start looking like a fantastic option."

George's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared slightly as he stared at his twin. "Don't be stupid, Fred."

"Hey," Fred said, the cheery twinkle in his eye indicating that he was somehow missing George's change in temperament, "you can't deny that death would be a less painful option than spending your life shackled to someone like Millicent Bulstrode."

George gave an inarticulate grunt and shoved away from the couch, pacing across the room to stand in front of the fireplace with his back to Fred and me. My stomach began to wind into a nervous knot as my gaze followed him, but Fred didn't seem to notice either of us. He was busy, holding both hands out, palms upward, as if he was weighing two options.

"Naked Millicent?" he said, and one hand rose in the air. "Or death?" The first hand dropped while the other rose.

"Fred..." George said, his voice taking on an edge of anger. "Stop it."

"Naked Millicent?" Fred said, laughing and still completely oblivious to the tension that was quickly mounting in the room. "Or sweet, eternal rest?"

George spun on his heel, rounding on his brother. "Fred, _shut UP_!"

The grin slowly slid from Fred's face as he stared wide-eyed up at George, whose hands were balled into fists, clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"George," I said in a whimper. After seeing what he'd done to that wall in the flat downstairs, I was terrified that he was about to haul off and punch Fred. George's breathing was deep and ragged and when he looked at me, I shook my head, silently pleading with him to stop and think about what he was doing.

Unfortunately, Fred rose to his feet then, now wearing an expression of anger to match that of his twin's and he took a few steps to close the distance between them. He came to a stop directly in front of George, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl firmly fixed on his face.

"Were you honestly just thinking about _hitting_ me?"

George squared his shoulders and straightened up, bringing himself to his full height, but he didn't say anything.

Prompted by his brother's silence, Fred groaned and threw his hands up in exasperation. "Why do I even _bother_ with you these days? You've been moping around like a wounded pup for months and won't talk to me about it; I find out you're actually keeping something from me and then you look me in the eye and _lie_ to me about it; and now you go completely nutters and want to punch me over a stupid joke!"

"Joke?" George said, and his voice was scary in how quiet it was. "A joke was us setting off dung-bombs in the main-hall our first year at school. A _joke_--" he continued, his voice slowly rising in volume, "--was that time we convinced Ron that mum and dad were going to give him up for adoption. Canary Creams are a joke. Fake wands that turn into rubber chickens are a joke! But you sitting there talking and laughing about your death like it isn't the worst thing that could ever happen to me is _bloody well not a joke_!"

Fred, looking stunned, tore his gaze away from his twin's eyes long enough to look down at his own chest, where George's finger had been jabbing rather roughly to emphasize the last few words of his rant.

"I'm beginning to think you really _have_ gone crazy," he said, knocking George's hand away and bringing his own up to rub at a spot between his ribcage, wincing as he did so. "Hope I haven't caught it," he added very dryly.

George's eyes widened and then flashed angrily at the insult. "You know what, Fred?" he said, his tone a raw mix of fury and pain. "Sod off. You hold _my_ dead body in your lap and _then_ you can talk to me about what 'crazy' feels like."

I gasped, trying to stifle the sound by clamping a hand over my mouth, but neither Fred nor George noticed it anyway.

"George," Fred said, very slowly. "Whatever I said or did, I'm sorry, alright? Just calm down because you're really starting to scare me now. Hermione?"

It was the first time either of them had addressed me in quite a while and I was too scared to even form a response. No need, though, because Fred didn't wait for one.

"I think we need to get George to St. Mungo's," he said, still not taking his eyes off his brother.

"I'm not sick!" George shouted, jerking away as Fred tried to check his forehead for fever. "And I'm not crazy! Fred, you _died_!"

"Georgie..." Fred said, and his voice sounded so child-like and frightened that my first instinctual desire was to hug and comfort him. "This isn't funny."

"No, it's not! But you wanted to know what I've been keeping from you all these months and this is it! YOU. DIED. Right in front of me!" George took a deep, shuddering breath and let his head droop, bringing his hands up so he could cradle his face in his palms.

"Hermione?" Fred said, finally turning to look at me.

I mouthed silently for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. "It's-it's true," I finally managed to stutter.

Apparently that wasn't the response he'd been expecting because his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "What do you _mean_ 'it's true'!? Look at me!" He motioned at his body with his hands. "Sure I'm a little pale but I'm no ghost! Look!" He reached out and poked George's arm, then he lifted a leg and kicked the coffee table. "I can't walk through stuff; I'm completely alive!"

"Yes, but you _were_ dead," I tried to explain. "The night... the night of the final battle. Fred, you were killed."

"I was de--" Fred began but couldn't seem to complete his thought. Instead, he took a few wobbly steps back towards the armchair and lowered himself to sit on the edge for just a second, but then he popped back up. "People don't just _die_ and then come back! I swear if this is some sort of sick prank I'm never speaking to either of you again for as long as I live."

George was now facing the fireplace again, resting his forehead against the wooden mantlepiece, and when I realized he wasn't going to participate in the conversation again any time soon, I turned my attention back to Fred.

"You don't remember any of it because we used a time-turner to go back and stop it from happening."

"A time-turner? What the bloody hell is a time-turner?"

I thought the name was fairly self-explanatory, but I began to explain anyway, understanding that nothing was making much sense to Fred at the moment. "Time-turners are used to manipulate time. Professor McGonagall gave me one my third year so that I could keep up with all the classes I was taking, and Harry and I used it to save Sirius from being kissed by the dementors." I was rambling and I knew it, but I was so nervous that I couldn't seem to stop myself. "Thankfully, when I returned it, Dumbledore told me he'd keep it in his study for safe-keeping, which means it wasn't destroyed with all the others in the Department of Mysteries."

"Okay, wait," Fred began, staring at me like I'd been speaking Troll. "I _died_. And you two went back in time and saved me?"

I nodded. "You remember the explosion and the wall that collapsed at the end of the corridor?"

"...Yeah?"

"The first time around, we were standing right under it. You--" I took a deep breath, "--you were the closest. The explosion killed you."

And then everything was silent for several, long minutes.

"So let me get this straight," Fred said, but he wasn't speaking to me now; he had turned and was once again approaching George. "I _died_," he paused, tugging at his brother's arm until he turned to face him, "and you didn't think I should know about it? You didn't think it was worth mentioning that I should be DEAD right now?" Fred reached up, clutching handfuls of hair on each side of his head as he began to shout. "Merlin, George! All this time you've been clinging to me one minute and pushing me away the next and I've been making myself sick trying to figure out what was going on with you! We tell each other _everything_; how could you not tell me _this_!?" Fred let go of his hair so he could roughly drag a hand over his face, and then he practically hissed his next statement. "Selfish bastard."

"S-selfish?" George took a small step back as if Fred had just dealt him a physical blow and the sting of pain he was feeling was clearly etched in every single line and feature of his face. "And what would _you_ have done, then?" His voice was eerily quiet again but I could hear the anger bubbling just below the surface. "You really want to know what happened, Fred? You really want to know what it felt like?"

Fred and I were both silent, watching George carefully.

"I _felt_ it in my gut," he began, determinedly keeping eye contact with his twin. "Before I ever even saw your body, before I ever even realized what was causing that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, _I felt the loss_."

George's eyes were red and beginning to glisten and Fred dropped his arms from his chest, letting them hang limply at his sides. He started to say something, but it seemed that George wasn't willing or able to stop now that he'd finally opened the floodgate that had been holding everything back for so long.

"You say the scariest moment of your life was the night I lost my ear and you saw my blood on the ground? Fred, you _died_ in front of me! I rolled boulders away from your body knowing that you would never open your eyes and look at me again. Even if it was only for a few minutes, I had to live with knowing that you'd never pull another stupid prank with me. You'd never bust in my room way too early on the weekends and pester me by bouncing on my bed until I finally get up. You'd never call me 'Georgie' again. We'd never develop new products together or see our second shop get started and we'd never laugh together and I'd never get another chance to tell you that you're my best mate and that I love you with all my heart..." George's voice had dropped to a shaky whisper and he was crying in earnest now, tears spilling down his cheeks and past his jaw, and he made no attempt to wipe them away.

"And I'm sorry if I've been moody lately and if I've confused you by clinging to you one minute and pushing you away the next and I'm sorry for flying off the handle when you talk about dying like it's no big deal, and I'm really sorry that I hurt you by lying to you but, for the first time in our lives, you have no idea what I'm going through!

"I held your _dead body_ in my lap and, Merlin help me, I just wanted to die with you._ So you'll have to forgive me if I'm having a hard time forgetting what that felt like_." He finished in a harsh whisper and then finally reached up, furiously brushing the tears away with his long fingers. "So," he said, and his voice was suddenly steadier, "if wanting to protect you from feeling what I've been feeling makes me a selfish bastard, then yeah, I guess I am."

Finished with his emotional tirade, George held his chin up, his jaw firmly set and his expression stoic and determined, and I thought, in spite of his puffy eyes and red nose, he looked the strongest I'd ever seen him.

The same could not be said for Fred. He looked whiter than usual and his hands were trembling slightly as he continued to stare at his twin, and I wasn't sure if he was going to hit something or pass out or start yelling again or storm off.

But George was carefully studying his brother's face and he must have known what he was feeling because George opened his arms in invitation, and Fred crashed into him without a second's hesitation. Long limbs wrapped around necks and torsos in a tight, urgent embrace which was accompanied by murmured apologies and two individual sets of sniffles.

I watched as Fred pulled back, grasping George's face with both of his hands. "So sorry, Georgie," he said and then pressed a firm kiss to his twin's temple before moving back in for another hug.

And then I was crying with them, an overwhelming sense of relief flooding through me. After months of keeping secrets, the truth was finally out in the open. After all the pain that George had gone through, he finally had the understanding and the support of the one person I knew could help him deal with it all. Fred and George might have many painful conversations ahead of them, and it might be a long and difficult process, but I could feel that everything was going to be okay.

"Hey, Weasley."

George's voice pulled me from my thoughts and I noticed him staring at me over Fred's arm (which was still wrapped securely around him.) His eyes were still watery but there was a tiny twinkle of true happiness in them, and he was smiling, like he'd been thinking the same thing that I had--that everything was going to be okay now. He jerked his head, inviting me to join them in their intimate circle, and I nodded, wiping my face with the back of my hand as I stood and made my way towards them. He and Fred opened up at the same time, both wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer, and the three of us stayed that way for quite a long time, until all the sniffling had subsided and everything was quiet.

"...Fred?" George said, his voice muffled because his mouth was resting against the top of my head.

"Yeah?" was Fred's response and it was muffled as well because his face was buried in the crook between his brother's neck and shoulder.

"You know I love you but..."

Fred snorted a laugh. "But you're asking me to leave."

"You don't have to go this second but I _am_ a little anxious to shag my bride."

"George!" I shrieked, trying my best to smack him on the chest.

"What?" he said, innocently. "I can't have you running out and getting an annulment first thing in the morning, now can I?" He kissed the top of my head and I smiled in spite of my embarrassment, comforted in knowing that he wanted to stay married.

"You know," Fred began very slowly as he pulled back from the hug, "I don't _have_ to leave... I mean, two Weasley twins are better than one, am I right?" He waggled his eyebrows at me and then gave George a quick wink.

So I placed a well-deserved smack across his chest, too.

"You're never going to stop saying inappropriate things to my wife are you, Gred?" George said, laughing at Fred's pained expression as he rubbed the place where I'd hit him.

Upon seeing George's smiling face, Fred started smiling too and he rocked up onto the balls of his feet, bouncing lightly. "Afraid not, Forge."

I just shook my head, glaring at the both of them. "You two are absolutely unbelievable."

"That we are!" Fred said, slinging an arm around his twin's shoulders.

"And just think--" George said, wrapping one arm around Fred and reaching out for me with the other, pulling me towards him.

"You're one of us now," they said together, wearing identical grins as they leaned towards me and each pressed a kiss to my cheek.

_~*The End*~_

* * *

**And there you have it. All finished! :( Hope it didn't disappoint too many of you! ;P**

**But, in all seriousness, I'm so glad that people have enjoyed this story and I hope you all enjoyed this final chapter. Really, I wrote this for myself as a way to deal with Fred's death because I was so torn up over the thought of Fred and George being separated.. and now I feel like I can just pretend that this is the way it really happened and that Gred & Forge are together--as happy and flirty and mischievous as ever! :D **

**And since I know many of you are in that bubble of denial with me, I hope this story has helped fuel your Fred's-alive-I-don't-care-what-anyone-else-says delusions ;)**

**Don't forget to add me to your Author Alerts list if you want to be notified of my future stories. I should have the Sweet-Talking Sweets one-shot up by early next week at the latest so I hope you guys will check it out. I think I've been having a bit too much fun with that story... It's nice and fluffy and completely angst-free! :P**

**As always, please review! It makes me so happy to hear that I was able to make someone laugh or get teary-eyed or whatever. Even if you're reading this a year after it's completed, I'd love to hear from any and everyone who's enjoyed the story! Your kind reviews give me the warm fuzzies! :D **

**Thank you all so much. You've been so lovely and encouraging and utterly fantastic... and I heart you all ;)**


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